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Sandie's First Swing
by JennyGently (jenny.gently@hotmail.co.uk)

***

Two families on their first holiday together find an 
unexpected way to spend their last night away. (MF-
cpls, wife-sharing, voy, swingers, preg)

***

This is the story of a first and only 'wife swapping' 
evening, as told to me by a good friend. Let's call 
her Sandie. I have changed names and places but I 
suppose, if by an incredible coincidence you know the 
individuals involved, it might be possible to work out 
who they really are.

The evening was unplanned and unintended and as yet is 
unrepeated but remains a powerful memory which she 
says has changed her forever.

I have written it in the 'first person' as if Sandie 
was telling the tale herself. I might have embellished 
the sex a little – she was too drunk to remember all 
the details - but the story and the ending are exactly 
as she described them. 

'Sandie' is the only person who knows about my 
writing. During a rather drunken evening at a friend's 
(third) hen party I confessed my writing to her and 
she confessed this story to me. 'Sandie' has read this 
story and is happy for me to publish it. She said it 
helped her re-live the best parts of the 'incident' 
without the guilt so here goes... my first publication 
as Jenny Gently.

If you don't like wife swapping or infidelity stories, 
please don't read any further. There are other stories 
on this site which would suit you much better. Please 
don't read something you know will upset you and then 
send abusive messages to the author.

Jenny x


To give you a bit of background, my husband Tom is a 
tall, good-looking, highly successful businessman, now 
in his mid 'forties. He's going a bit grey but still 
has all his hair and is in great shape. I am a little 
younger and a secondary school teacher. I suppose I'm 
in good shape for my age too with a dress size of ten 
(on a good day), small boobs and shoulder length, 
suspiciously blonde hair. We both often go to the gym 
after work and at weekends and enjoy the outdoor life 
as often as we can fit it in. We have two lovely pre-
teen children having started a family later in life 
than many. 

In short, we are a genuinely happy English family.

Having kids is an easy way of making new friends and 
we have known Lisa and Paul since our youngest was 
only two years old and at nursery. Having two kids 
themselves, of similar ages to ours, we soon got to 
know each other better both as adult friends and for 
'play dates' for the kids, with shared birthday 
parties, sleepovers and trips out a regular 
occurrence. 

Lisa and Paul are a bit younger than us – let's say 
mid 'thirties – and are great fun. Paul does a more 
physical job and has a great body. He spends a bit too 
much time in the gym and in front of the mirror for my 
liking and fancies himself rather more than I think he 
should but is otherwise good company. His wife is a 
close friend of mine who can always be relied on to 
make an evening fun with news and anecdotes, many of 
an increasingly risquι nature. She is tall, slim to 
the point of skinny and genuinely blonde with 
surgically enhanced boobs which were a present for her 
thirtieth birthday. 

Over the years we have seen a lot of each other, our 
kids getting on very well indeed, so it was inevitable 
that, after one of the many dinner parties at each 
other's homes, it was suggested – and enthusiastically 
agreed - that the two families should try going on 
holiday for a week together as a group of eight the 
following Easter. 

Over the coming months, much after-dinner alcohol- 
fuelled debate ensued about where the holiday should 
be. Budget is an important consideration when four 
kids are involved but eventually we agreed to take a 
cottage in Snowdonia, the wild, beautiful North Wales 
National Park, an area Tom and I knew well and had 
always loved.

To make it even more perfect, we booked an old stone 
cottage in a very isolated spot where there was plenty 
of good walking, exploring and good bike riding for 
the kids. Sadly though, we knew the local restaurants 
were poor so we would probably be eating all our meals 
in the cottage.

Eventually the week arrived and we drive in convoy to 
the countryside. The weather was unusually kind for a 
British Easter and the cottage was amazing too, and 
was more like two tiny cottages knocked together into 
one. Over three hundred years old and with no mains 
power, it relied on an old petrol-driven generator for 
light and real fires for warmth. Like many old houses 
it had thick walls and small windows. The heavy lined 
curtains kept out almost all the light, and of course 
being in Wales, the rain clouds allowed little 
moonlight through anyway. When the lights were out it 
was very dark indeed but to our surprise the kids 
found this exciting rather than scary.

The accommodation was simple but perfectly adequate 
for a week. Downstairs was a good sized lounge / 
dining room with a separate kitchen, a reasonable 
family bathroom and two small double bedrooms for the 
four adults. Upstairs was one large single attic room 
with four beds a TV and Playstation and a good 
selection of games to keep the kids amused when the 
weather turned bad – a fairly predictable happening in 
Wales.

The holiday passed off almost without a hitch. True, 
the kids squabbled quite a lot but lots of fresh air 
meant that they were always exhausted at the end of 
the day and slept soundly together in the attic room 
from about 9pm which gave the four adults a little 
respite.

There was lots of walking in the mountains, lots of 
playing on the beaches and the rocks nearby. We even 
found a leisure centre with an indoor / outdoor 
swimming pool and on the hottest day spent the entire 
time on the water flumes and sunbathing by the 
waterside. I have to say that Lisa with her slim 
figure, mega-boobs and bright red bikini made me in my 
dark blue one piece costume feel fat and frumpy but I 
consoled myself that there were a lot of older fatter 
women there and I wasn't the worst by far.

My husband looked very attractive, playing 
boisterously with the kids in his blue shorts. I was 
pleased to see there was very little evidence of the 
approach of middle age and I enjoyed watching him when 
I knew he couldn't tell. Paul of course used the 
occasion to show off his body and I have to admit that 
it was worth showing off. In lycra-tight swim shorts 
his well-defined chest and arm muscles almost shone in 
the water and his buttocks looked tight and firm. I 
tried not to stare but I'm sure Lisa caught me giving 
him the once-over a couple of time. Fortunately she 
didn't seem upset – I suppose when you look like the 
two of them you expect to attract attention, perhaps 
even crave it. 

It was Friday night – our last night in the cottage. 
The weather had been very good that day, and after a 
long walk along an old railway track, we were all 
hungry and thirsty. The four kids had eaten their 
dinner earlier and had gone into the cottage's games 
room to play darts and pool leaving the adults free to 
relax in the kitchen and lounge.

Paul and Tom had cooked dinner for the kids which had 
been consumed with gusto, and were now preparing a 
slightly more sophisticated meal for the adults while 
Lisa and I chatted. Thanks in part to liberal doses of 
wine, this had taken much longer than we had 
originally predicted and as a result, by the time 
dinner was finally served, Lisa and I had drunk much 
more than we were accustomed to and were, as she put 
it, 'completely squiffy'. 

Perhaps as a result of this unaccustomed tipsiness, It 
took me much longer than it should to realise Paul 
seemed to be quite casually but deliberately touching 
me on my thighs and calves under the table as we sat 
and chatted before dinner. I tried to ignore it, but 
when his hand slipped higher up my thigh I looked at 
him sternly but jokingly. 

The look he gave me back was what could only be 
described as a suggestive grin - his eyes sparkled 
with mischief and I quickly looked round to see if Tom 
or Lisa had noticed. To my relief, they were both 
fully occupied, their heads pressed close together as 
they pored over a large map, working out where we had 
been that day and planning our route home for 
tomorrow.

I fidgeted subtly a little further away from Paul's 
straying fingers and tried to ignore him but to be 
honest it felt good to believe he found me attractive, 
even in a light, flirty way and I drifted closer to 
him again as we began to eat our meal.

Dinner consumed and another bottle of wine later, we 
were all feeling replete and the conversation after 
dinner had started roamed widely. I suppose we were 
all relieved that our first holiday had gone so 
smoothly, especially that the kids had got on together 
and behaved so well. We raised our glasses to the 
Welsh weather several times. 

As the evening progressed the conversation, as it was 
prone to do when Lisa and alcohol featured, had 
touched briefly, but initially only obliquely, on sex. 
Lisa had always been a terrible gossip and had heard 
that afternoon from a friend that a another mutual 
friend had disgraced herself at a recent business 
awards ceremony by getting drunk and spending the 
night with two men after her husband had gone home. 

Lisa's unimpeachable sources were usually friends of 
friends. According to these 'sources', the husband had 
picked his wife up from the one of the men's houses 
the following morning, her dress covered in semen 
stains but had taken her back as if this wasn't 
unusual.

 We all expressed the expected amount of outward shock 
and horror – genuine in Tom and my case - but across 
the table I could see Paul smiling at me again, and 
felt his fingers trying to return to my thigh. Across 
the table Lisa was regaling us – in increasingly 
slurry words - with another story of an errant 
acquaintance. Her voice and hands were animated, 
touching my husband's arms and legs repeatedly as she 
spoke and directing almost all of her attention to 
him. To my surprise and annoyance, I noticed his hand 
resting on her shoulder, stroking her neck a little in 
an intimate gesture I felt belonged only to me. 

Telling myself he was probably as drunk as I was and 
unaware he was doing it, I tried to listen to Lisa's 
story but she was giggling so much at whatever Tom was 
whispering in her ear that her words became 
incomprehensible – especially to my rather inebriated 
ears. By now I had stopped trying to keep Paul's hands 
away from my thighs and in fact, if I'm honest, had 
started to enjoy the attention. Clearly my husband 
wasn't going to provide any! 

So there was something of a sexual frisson in the air 
and as the plates and cups were finally cleared. 
Partly in order to put a bit of distance between my 
legs and Paul's fingers, I insisted on making more 
coffee and asked Tom to helping me wash up in the 
kitchen. 

Lisa moaned in mock disappointment as he rose to help, 
at which point Paul eagerly volunteered and took the 
tray of dirty cups through, leaving Tom and Lisa once 
again crouched over the map, his arms either side of 
her torso. Lisa was giggling, my husband Tom's face 
close up to hers as he leaned over her. She seemed to 
be rubbing her bottom against him playfully. In my 
inebriated state I found this funny and giggled myself 
as I gathered up the remaining crockery and went into 
the kitchen.

Paul was standing at the sink as I entered the room, 
his arms deep in the warm soapy water. I placed the 
last few plates alongside the sink.

"Are they OK?" He asked me, smiling.

"I think they're flirting." I laughed, but felt a 
little pang of unhappiness about it.

I frowned at the thought. Inside I knew it was 
hypocritical of me to feel jealous when Tom was simply 
flirting with Lisa and I myself had enjoyed Paul's 
touch on my thighs. Perhaps I needed a little more 
flirting myself.

I started to place the cups one by one into the sink 
as Paul washed them up. Our fingers touched in the 
warm water. I paused then placed another dirty cup in 
the sink. Again our fingers touched. This time I 
paused and watched as Paul slowly drew a wet index 
finger up my arm, leaving a soapy wet trail up to my 
elbow. Neither of us spoke but to my surprise, I 
pressed my thigh against his and we washed the dishes 
together in loaded silence, feeling the warmth and 
strength of his powerful body against mine. 

The reverie of the moment was broken by the kettle 
which began singing insistently on the hob. With a 
slight sigh, I turned away from the sink and began to 
make four large strong coffees, wondering what – if 
anything – had just happened. 

A few minutes later I carried the tray of coffees into 
the lounge and placed it on the low table in front of 
Tom and Lisa, who were now sitting closely side by 
side on the sofa. The map was open on the table before 
them but it was obvious that neither of them were 
interested in anything but flirting with each other. 
Tom's hand rested on Lisa's upper thigh and she kept 
grasping him by the arm as she told him yet another 
story. I recognised the tale as a highly sexual one 
involving someone Tom and I knew well and which we had 
both been sworn to secrecy. 

I sat down and sipped the hot liquid very slowly to 
avoid having to make conversation while my mind was 
racing so fast. 

"I'm just going up to tell the kids to go to sleep!" 
Paul called as he left the kitchen and entered the 
hallway. Not wanting to raise a scene about Tom's 
outrageous flirting but also not wanting to have to 
sit and watch it, I volunteered to go too and weaved 
my rather unstable way up the steep stairs. 

There was silence as we entered the room where to our 
amazement the four kids were snuggled up in their 
sleeping bags. The younger two were already fast 
asleep, the older boys more than half way there.

"Goodnight kids. No talking after midnight. We've got 
a long drive tomorrow." I said softly, in the certain 
knowledge that all four of them would be asleep within 
minutes after the day's long, tiring walk.

Descending the stairs, we re-entered the lounge to 
finish our hot drinks. My wobbliness on the stairs had 
made me realise how much wine I had drunk and how much 
I could do with a strong coffee. As we entered the 
lounge area there was a sudden movement from the sofa 
and Tom and Lisa seemed to spring apart. I was annoyed 
at this. What had they been doing that they had felt 
so guilty about? I look at Paul for reassurance but he 
was acting as if nothing unusual had happened. Knowing 
I was slightly tipsy, I began to doubt my eyes and 
most certainly didn't want to make a scene on our last 
night.

I crossed to the table and picked up my half full 
coffee cup. Turning round without looking I began to 
sit in the armchair across from the sofa. Unknown to 
me, Paul had also started to sit there and we collided 
drunkenly, spilling coffee all down Paul's shirt.

"Oh no!" I gasped. "Quickly! Before it scalds you!" I 
grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen where 
I immediately held a cloth under the tap and began to 
put cold water over the hot, wet patches on his shirt. 
It smelled strongly of coffee and stuck to his chest 
as I patted and patted it with the damp cloth.

"Better take it off and we'll soak it now. Coffee is a 
bugger to get out." I said, turning to the sink for a 
last soaking of the cloth.

When I turned back, Paul had stripped off his wet T 
shirt and was naked from the waist upwards. For a 
second I was taken aback. I had seen him working out 
in the gym many times, as did Tom, and ha admired him 
at the pool too but I had not been that close to the 
clearly defined muscle structure I saw before me now, 
the firm flat tummy – almost a six-pack – and the 
powerful shoulders and arms. He looked simply amazing.

"Give... um... give me the shirt... umm..." I 
stammered like a love struck schoolgirl. Silently he 
gave it to me and I placed it in a bowl of cold water, 
leaving it to soak the way my mother had taught me. 

"Thanks Sandie." Paul said softly from behind me. "I 
appreciate this." His hands were on my waist. Just 
lightly. 

"It's ok Paul." I replied in a whisper. "I just 
hope... it all... comes out..."

I turned around and his hands remained on my waist, 
his face close to mine. I felt strange, as if 
something had just happened but I couldn't tell what. 
His hands were firmer on my waist and he was gently 
pulling me towards him. He kissed me gently on the 
lips. I froze, my head spinning. He kissed me again. I 
didn't kiss him back but I didn't push him away 
either. My hands went to his chest as if to push him 
back instead began to stroke the strong, well defined 
muscles. He kissed me a third time and this time I 
returned his kiss, opening my mouth and feeling his 
tongue. 

His hands fell to my buttocks. This time I did pull 
away, mumbling stupidly.

"Sorry... got to get back... Tom... Lisa..." I turned 
away from him and walked towards the kitchen door.

Suddenly I was stopped short. In the hallway outside 
the kitchen was the usual full length wall mounted 
mirror. We had all used it to check our make-up, hair, 
hats etc before going out. Now to my astonishment I 
realised that it also gave anyone in the kitchen a 
good, clear view of the cottage's lounge, presumably 
to let parents keep an eye on their children while 
cooking. At the moment however it showed in full 
technicolour the scene on the room's large sofa.

To my amazement, Lisa was lying back on the cushions, 
her skirt pulled right up over her waist, her legs 
splayed wide open with Tom, my husband of fifteen 
years, his chest as bare as Paul's, kneeling between 
her knees. His face was pressed hard up against her 
naked vulva. Her fingers were entwined in his hair, 
her head thrown back in pleasure as she apparently 
enjoyed a minor orgasm right there in the lounge.

It was then I felt Paul's hands on my waist again. I 
span around and looked at him. He was also looking in 
the mirror but with a half-smile on his face. Even in 
my drunken state I knew this was wrong. My first 
thought had been that Paul would attack Tom physically 
but he showed no sign of anger – far from it. 

My second thought was that my husband was cheating on 
me with one of my closest friends and that I should 
immediately go in and stop it but for reasons I can't 
understand even today, this simply made me more 
aroused and I did nothing but watch spellbound.

Gradually I became aware of a closer presence behind 
me as Paul pressed himself against my back. His hands 
were on my arms, stroking them gently. His lips were 
on the back of my neck, then on the sides, then on my 
shoulders. He felt strong and warm and... His hands 
were back on my waist now as he kissed my shoulders, 
my eyes still fixed on the two adulterers on the sofa 
who were now kissing open mouthed as Tom caressed 
Lisa's vulva to her obvious pleasure. 

Paul's hands moved to my buttocks, kneading them and I 
found myself pressing back against his fingers. His 
hands slipped around my sides. They were on my boobs, 
cupping them, feeling my nipples through my dress and 
bra. I leaned back into his strong, firm body and 
rested my head against his powerful chest. His hands 
slipped down to my groin and cupped my hot vulva 
through my dress. My legs went weak. 

Back at the sofa, Tom had stood up and was taking off 
his trousers and pants. I watched mesmerised as his 
cock sprang forwards. As Paul's finger began to 
massage my outer labia through my panties, so Lisa 
knelt on the floor and took my husband's cock in her 
mouth. Tom threw back his head and looked at the 
ceiling as she began to work on him and Paul's 
fingertip began to slide backward and forward over my 
cotton-covered slit. I felt a ball of heat glowing 
within me as he continued to massage my vulva and kiss 
my neck, a strange feeling of unreality all around me.

I felt Paul's hot wet tongue on my ear and he nibbled 
my lobes as his hands continued their work down below, 
gradually raising the hem of my dress to gain access 
to my panties. I sighed loudly as his fingers slipped 
under the elastic and toyed with my sparse pubic hair. 
For a second, my eyes had trouble focussing on the 
mirror but when I blinked them back into focus, Tom 
had taken Lisa by the hands and raised her to her 
feet. 

She kicked her panties off her ankles and with a broad 
smile, took Tom by the hand and, before my eyes, led 
him across the room to the bedroom he and I were 
using. As she passed the hallway I could have sworn 
she saw me and Paul as he fondled me in the kitchen 
but my memory is fuddled by alcohol and lust.

The bedroom door closed behind them. Before I could 
say anything or even move, Paul had spun me round and 
kissed me full on the lips. It took me by surprise. 
What took me even more by surprise was the way my body 
responded. I returned his kiss passionately, my mouth 
open, my tongue seeking his and for some time we 'made 
out' like teenagers in the kitchen doorway, his hands 
caressing every part of my body they could reach.

Eventually we had to come up for air and without a 
word, Paul took my hand and gently in his and pulled 
me towards the bedroom door. Something inside me knew 
that I was about to cross a rubicon – that if I took 
that hand, things would start that I would not be able 
to stop and life would never be quite the same again. 
I took one last look at the door through which my 
husband of fifteen years has passed with his new 
lover, the sounds of their passion already audible, 
and took Paul's preferred hand. 

The bedroom door closed behind us too.

I'm a little unsure exactly what happened next. Within 
seconds, Paul's lips were on mine again, his tongue 
reaching deep into my mouth with mine responding 
eagerly in kind. His hands were a blur; in my hair; 
stroking the back of my neck; on the small of my back, 
on my buttocks pulling my body tightly against his, 
pressing his erection into my belly; reaching under 
the hem of my dress; inside my panties on my buttocks; 
inside my panties on my vulva.

I remember opening my legs slightly to give his 
fingers room and the shock of pleasure as his fingers 
slipped between my inner lips then the sudden 
disappointment coupled with relief when they moved 
away again. The bow on my waistband was undone, his 
hands were on my dress lifting it over my head; I 
raised my arms to help it pass; his hands were behind 
my back fiddling with my bra; it fell away leaving me 
standing only in my panties, my mind still a blur. He 
pulled my near-naked body into his powerful arms and 
kissed me hard on the mouth.

I barely recognise the 'me' that emerged now. 
Certainly I have never been so bold before or since 
but to my astonishment I confidently slipped my hand 
between our bellies and down the front of his shorts, 
grasping his shaft firmly. It felt simply huge in my 
fingers and I grunted into his mouth in surprise. 

His hands fell to my waist, then to my buttocks and he 
pulled me firmly against his body again, squeezing my 
hand, still wrapped around his cock, between our two 
stomachs. He slipped his hands inside my panties again 
and kneaded my buttocks as I clumsily massaged his 
erection, pulling my cheeks apart and running a finger 
lightly up and down my cleft, each downward stroke 
bringing his fingers closer to the base of my vulva 
and its precious hot core. It felt simply wonderful to 
be so sexual again.

As his invading fingertips touched my pubic hair from 
beneath, I heard myself whimpering softly and rolled 
my hips against his hand as he brought his palms under 
my buttocks. I rubbed my groin brazenly against his 
leg as if I was still a desperate teenager at a school 
disco.

I really can't explain what came over me next but 
before I knew it I had lowered myself to my knees and 
was unfastening Paul's shorts, pulling them and then 
the underpants inside them down to his knees. His 
already erect cock sort of 'popped' out as the elastic 
waistband suddenly released it from its captivity. I 
recoiled in surprise as it flicked forwards into my 
face. 

Jesus it was big! Suddenly I felt nervous – to my 
shame, not because I was about to commit adultery but 
because I was afraid Paul would find me a 'poor lay'. 
Steeling myself and trying to remember all the tricks 
I used to know when I was younger, I took the huge 
thick shaft in my right hand and, with my left hand 
cupping his balls, took the head of his cock into my 
mouth.

It had been so long since I had knelt and sucked a 
cock that I had to think hard to remember how to do it 
properly. I knew Tom used to love what I did but over 
the years I had started to avoid it, much to his 
disappointment. Now, with the biggest cock I had ever 
encountered in my mouth, I had to remember fast but to 
my relief, instinct took over. In an instant, my mouth 
and tongue were around the head of Paul's cock and my 
hand was cupping and massaging his tight scrotum. My 
head began to dip forwards and backwards as I 
carefully let my teeth lightly grated against its firm 
sides and my tongue smothered its swelling, sensitive 
head.

Above me, Paul moaned with pleasure which filled me 
with delight. My hands found his buttocks and pulled 
him deeper into my mouth. My chest felt tight with 
lust and my tongue was all over and around him, 
finding the sensitive groove behind its smooth head 
and toying with it until I felt his knees tremble.

I was a real cock-sucker again! And what a cock! Not 
too long, but long enough to risk choking me and so, 
so thick!

My head bobbed forwards and backwards in time with the 
motion of my hands on his buttocks, oblivious to the 
risk that he would cum in my mouth. I suppose that 
deep within my lust-filled mind was the thought that 
this whole encounter might end in simply a blow-job 
and that I could pretend that I hadn't been 
unfaithful. But if the thought was there, it was 
buried deeply and I knew I needed more, whatever the 
cost! 

It seems that Paul was more in control than me because 
he gently took my head in my hands, slowing my 
movements until they stopped. He tilted my face up 
towards his, my mouth still around his head. His eyes 
in the low light sparkled. My face was merely inches 
from his flat tummy. My God! He looked gorgeous! 

He took my hands and gently pulled me to my feet and 
straight into a passionate embrace, his lips pressed 
hard against mine, his mouth open, and his tongue 
seeking my own. His hands slipped back inside my 
panties and once again found my buttocks. He slid his 
middle finger again down the cleft in my bottom, over 
my tight anus and deeper down between my thighs to 
reach the lower edge of my vulva. I moaned into his 
open mouth, feeling the last vestiges of reserve 
falling away and my knees weakening.

I raised my arms around his muscular neck and hung 
from him, feeling his sheer masculine strength all 
around me. His hands returned to beneath my buttocks 
and to my surprise he effortlessly lifted me bodily 
from the ground. I wrapped my legs around his upper 
thighs as he carried me forward, staggering a little 
in the semi-darkness until we reached the double bed 
where he bent over and lowered me gently onto the 
covers.

I dimly remember thinking that this was the last 
chance I had to retain even a tiny morsel of fidelity 
to my husband, but I was too far gone. I released 
Paul's neck and lay back on the pillows as he stood 
upright at the bedside, undressing quickly and casting 
his remaining clothes aside.

I watched silently and helplessly as he mounted the 
foot of the bed. His hands quickly found my knees and 
his fingers ran from there slowly up the inside of my 
thighs towards my panties. His fingertips danced over 
my crotch, then slipped under the elastic at each 
side. Ludicrously my muddled brain wished I'd worn 
something sexier. 

"Lift up!" He whispered and like a child I obeyed, 
raising my hips from the bed. He deftly slipped my 
panties down, over my buttocks and, as I lowered my 
bottom back to the sheet, along my legs and away, 
leaving me fully exposed, naked before his own 
beautiful naked form.

Despite my alcohol and lust filled mind, I 
automatically pressed my knees together in an 
instinctive if futile attempt at modesty. Paul seemed 
to notice this and chuckled then, placing a hand 
underneath each knee, firmly parted my thighs, 
spreading my legs wide and kneeling on the bed between 
them so that I could not close them again.

Suddenly I was very much aware of my vulnerability. I 
had never flaunted my sex to a man like this before, 
not even to my husband but Paul gave me no time for 
second thoughts. His fingers began to stroke the 
inside of my thighs, moving ever upwards until they 
found the triangle of short, wiry hair that I 
ridiculously wished I had trimmed for him. He briefly 
paused as if inspecting my vulva as his fingers very 
slowly explored the full outline of my slit, before 
slipping firmly and confidently into my moist opening. 

Now it was really happening. My body had now been 
invaded by a new and exciting man. I heard myself 
moaning softly as his long middle finger slid its full 
length into my vagina until his palm rested against my 
mound. I could feel the heat from his hand against my 
sensitive skin and imagined the physical power of the 
man behind it. He began to move the finger around in 
small circles inside my body and my belly turned to 
jelly at this unfamiliar touch. My head fell back and 
I closed my eyes as my legs lost all remaining tension 
and fell wide open allowing him to penetrate me a 
little more. 

I could feel the rough skin of his strong hands 
against my clitoris and began to tremble with rising 
arousal, my breath catching in my throat as I moaned 
louder. My body tensed then relaxed and slowly, 
carefully I felt him slide a second finger into me 
alongside the first. I groaned again in pleasure as 
his fingers filled me more at which point to my 
amazement he turned his hand over and thrust his 
fingers deep into my body, withdrew them a little and 
thrust them in again. 

I yelped in surprise and a little pain as he worked 
his fingers in and out of my body, reaching deeper 
with each thrust, curling them upwards towards my 
pubic bone and seeking the rough inner patch of my G-
spot. My hips bucked slowly but forcibly back and 
forth against his hand, my back arching, harsher 
grunts now coming from my mouth. I bit my lip to try 
not to wake the kids above but could not keep quiet.

To be quite honest, giving birth to two children has 
robbed my vagina of much of its youthful tightness, so 
it wasn't until Paul inserted a third finger in me 
that the already incredible sensations became 
overwhelming. My moaning stopped, my chest became so 
tight I could hardly breathe and my body began to 
shake in my first major orgasm for a long, long time. 
I bucked hard against his hand now as if trying to 
ride it, feeling myself stretched further until what I 
suspect was a fourth finger was added to the 
incredible bulk thrust into me. My body now went into 
uncontrollable spasms.

"Oh God! Yes! Fill me! Hurt me!" My words, though low, 
cut the silence in the room like a knife.

"Shhh!" Paul hissed softly. I bit my hand hard to 
stifle the noise.

There was a sudden loud sound of moaning coming 
through the bedroom wall and I recognised Lisa's voice 
in what could only be a cry of arousal or near-
ecstasy. My mind dimly wondered what my husband might 
be doing to Paul's wife barely feet away from where 
Paul himself was practically fisting me so amazingly 
well for the first time in my life.

The moan subsided and for a few seconds all I could 
hear were the creaking bedsprings and the soft, wet, 
slurping sounds of Paul's fingers in my vagina. Then a 
new wave of orgasm washed over me and my head simply 
span. The pungent odour of my body in climax hit my 
nostrils – something else that had not happened for 
far too long. 

"Don't stop... Ohhhh! Fucking hell!" I bit hard into 
my knuckles to try and keep silent.

A third spasm passed over me as my body writhed on the 
rumpled sheets and my splayed legs kicked 
uncontrollably until Paul pinned them down with his 
body.

To my combined relief and disappointment, he slowed 
his fingering gradually to a stop and my climax 
subsided a little. I lay still, sweating, almost 
gasping for breath, my face burning. But there was to 
be little respite. Bending low between my thighs, Paul 
quickly leaned forward and licked my stretched and 
tingling slit with a long single stroke from its base 
to my clitoris. 

Oh my God! The touch of his tongue on my engorged lips 
was overpowering. My hands reached down to grip his 
head tightly. At first I tried to push his mouth away 
from my vulva then I tried to pull him hard against 
it. He licked me again, this time his tongue firm and 
pointed. My fingers entwined themselves in his hair 
and held him firmly as his tongue began to dart 
eagerly in and out and up and down my slit, first in 
long strokes along my inner lips, then in short rapid 
movements across and underneath my so so sensitive 
clitoris. 

I began to moan and writhe again as Paul's tongue 
found and played with my clitoris alone. I was on the 
verge of another orgasm, my body now feeling tired 
when he slipped two fingers back into my vagina, 
rotating them as his tongue worked my clitoris hard. I 
began to climax again, twitching and breathing in 
shorter and shorter gasps.

I silently begged Paul to finish. To fuck me now 
before I passed out.

As if reading my mind – or perhaps in my confusion I 
had spoke aloud - he released my vulva and slowly rose 
to his feet, watching me closely as I lay panting on 
the bed. He leaned over me and slowly and carefully 
introduced the tip of his cock between my open inner 
lips, placing his palms on my knees and firmly pushed 
them upwards and apart. 

This was it! This was the Big One! Deep down I knew I 
should have stopped him before yielding the very last 
vestige of morality but I was too far gone.

"Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Paul!" I heard myself growl like 
an animal. "Fuck me now!" 

A steady 'thump thump' was coming through the wall 
from the room next door. It was not hard to imagine 
what Tom and Lisa were doing in 'our' room. It should 
have shocked me and brought me to my senses but it 
only turned me on more.

"Fuck me Paul – like Tom's fucking Lisa." I hissed 
again, my voice no longer recognisable as my own. 

With a single powerful stroke, Paul drove his huge 
cock into me with what seemed like his whole weight. 
My eyes flew open in shocked surprise as he stretched 
my already-bruised vagina way beyond anything Tom's 
cock had ever done. 

"Jesus! Oh Jesus!"

He began to slide himself confidently in and out of my 
body; first in long, slow, silent strokes, then with 
increasing speed and vigour. I felt my vagina 
tightening around his shaft and my arousal grew and 
grew with every deep penetration. 

His face barely inches above mine, Paul began to 
thrust harder and harder. I grunted aloud and he 
kissed me passionately on the lips, partly I'm sure to 
silence my squeals. My back arched again and I tried 
hard to clamp down on his thrusting cock with my 
pelvic floor. It seemed to work because for the first 
time Paul began to grunt too and he redoubled the 
ferocity of his thrusts, forcing my legs painfully 
wide. Now our bed began to make 'bump bump' noises in 
time with those coming from Tom and Lisa as his hard 
thrusts drove it and me gradually along the tiled 
floor. 

Without leaving my body, Paul reared up a little and 
pulled my legs in front of him, pressing them together 
and upwards into my chest with his strong hands, 
tightening me further around his cock. This was a real 
surprise, the sensations were amazing and the effect 
was instant. I gasped aloud as yet another climax 
flooded in on me. Forcing my knees even harder 
together, he pulled me down onto his driving cock. Its 
thick wiry base burned my vulva and as his thrusts 
grew faster and faster I felt him beginning to reach 
his own climax.

With little warning, Paul's face twisted and contorted 
as he finally began to cum. Odd little grunting noises 
filled the room and he began the short, sharp, 
stabbing thrusts that meant he was ejaculating inside 
me. I could hear the sound of his balls slapping 
against my buttocks. I gasped with each deep, painful 
thrust as his muscles bunched and his powerful body 
slammed into mine. I gritted my teeth as his full 
weight came down upon me repeatedly, driving my hard 
into the sheets until I felt sure my back would burn 
with the friction.

Eventually his thrusts slowed, then stopped and he 
rested, breathless, his weight heavy on my exhausted 
body. I felt the familiar and strangely pleasing 
sensation of a satisfied cock gradually softening 
inside me. Silence descended in our room, broken only 
by the continued sounds of the bed next door and 
Lisa's low moaning.

Emotionally spent, I ran my palms up and down his 
slightly sweaty back and over the firm buttocks I had 
admired for so long as he laid on me, his flaccid cock 
still within my body. I stroked the back of his thighs 
as we lay there as if drawing his body into mine, 
still very much joined at the waist and ran my fingers 
almost lovingly over his shoulders and upper arms as 
we both recovered our breath.

After what seemed an age, his cock slipped messily 
from my hot, sticky body and he rolled over to lie 
alongside me. I could hear both our breathing in the 
low light.

"Are you ok?" He whispered. I nodded, almost incapable 
of speech.

"I'm tired." I replied, feeling totally spent and 
physically battered. "That was..."

I rolled over onto my side, my back to Paul and 
without another sound, fell asleep.

***

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. I remember a 
little later, waking up to the feeling of Paul's hot 
body pressed against my back as we spooned together on 
the bed. I remember feeling his cock hard against my 
buttocks, rubbing back and forth against my sore 
vulva. 

I remember reaching behind to touch his hardness; him 
lifting me bodily onto my knees with my bottom in the 
air. I remember protesting half-heartedly as he knelt 
behind me and the shock as he entered me doggy style – 
a position I find painful as it allows Tom to reach so 
deep within me it feels as if I've been punched in the 
belly afterwards.

I remember clearly the massive invasion of Paul's cock 
from behind, deep into my vagina until his wiry pubic 
hair scraped against my buttocks; the pain of him 
stretching me; the pressure of his cock on my cervix. 
I remember reaching backwards to try and push him away 
but being overpowered by his strength.

I remember him thrusting hard and violently into me, 
his hands holding my hips so tightly they bruised, the 
loving care of our first mating a thing of the past; 
the pain when he pulled my hair; the humiliation as he 
slapped my buttocks as he thrust in and out of my 
body.

I remember him grunting almost in triumph as he came 
forcefully in me again and the weight of his body on 
my back as we fell to the bed.

I remember less clearly him rising over me at least 
once more before the night was over and taking me 
again, my dazed mind and exhausted body in total 
compliance and submission to his desire. It must have 
been like fucking a doll, because it could be called 
nothing esle.

***

The following morning must rank as one of the worst in 
my life. I was awoken around six after very little 
sleep by the sound of the kids chatting in their 
'dorm' room upstairs. My head throbbed, my body ached 
as if I had been hit by a train and it took a good few 
seconds for me to realise where I was, who the naked 
man was sleeping next to me and, as oceans of shame 
and guilt began to wash over me, what had happened 
last night.

For the first and only time since our marriage, I had 
slept with another man! No, I thought as the memories 
gradually became clearer, I had been comprehensively 
fucked by someone who was not my husband. There could 
be no other word for it, I realised, remembering at 
least something of all the times he had taken me 
during the course of the night. I had cheated on my 
husband. I was an adulteress. The fact that tom had 
also cheated on me didn't console me.

An irresistible urge to get clean came over me, as if 
by removing the outer traces of my guilt I could 
somehow pretend it all hadn't happened. Slowly, 
carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping Paul, I 
slipped from the bed and stood very unsteadily 
alongside. My legs and hips ached terribly; the 
terrible soreness between my legs made me wince aloud 
and my head span. Paul stirred and for a second I 
thought he would wake up but he just rolled over and 
breathed more slowly in his sleep. I stood with my 
legs a little wider apart and looked around the room 
for something to cover my naked body.

The room was strewn with discarded clothing; both mine 
and Paul's as well as the normal untidiness of a 
holiday bedroom. Eventually I spotted a long T shirt 
Paul had been wearing the previous day and slipped it 
over my head. It just about covered my bottom so, 
holding it down in case the kids appeared, I tiptoed 
from the room and into the hallway en route to the 
bathroom.

"Hi Mummy!" I span around to see where the greeting 
had come from. "Why are you wearing Uncle Paul's top?" 
My ten year old daughter Emily was sitting on the 
stairs in her pyjamas, rubbing her eyes. "The boys are 
making too much noise. I can't sleep. What's that 
funny smell?"

Still more than a little dopey myself, all I could do 
was whisper.

"It's too early to come down yet Sweetheart. Pop up 
and tell the boys they can watch TV up there if they 
keep the sound down low."

Emily frowned a little, but the prospect of being able 
to tell the older children what to do had a powerful 
appeal. She turned and skipped back up the stairs then 
paused and turned.

"Auntie Lisa was making a terrible noise last night. 
Did she hurt herself?" My heart skipped a beat. Had 
the kids – especially the boys who were older – heard 
the sounds of our fucking and understood what was 
going on beneath them?

"She was just having a bad dream, Em..." I replied 
reassuringly. "Did it keep you all awake?"

"No Mum." She replied and I felt so relieved. "Just 
me." And with that she went up and into the dorm room. 

I breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief and opened the 
bathroom door, slipping inside silently and locking it 
behind me before turning slowly around to look in the 
mirror and face the fallen woman I felt sure would 
stare accusingly back at me.

To my surprise, I had not grown devil's horns during 
the night – the woman in the mirror was definitely me, 
but not a 'me' I would want anyone else to see. My 
hair was a mess, my remaining make up smudged over my 
face – a face that was flushed pink. My eyes still 
bore some make-up but were puffy and dull.

I groaned when I saw two large, dark love bites on my 
neck. Oh my God! Hickeys! I hadn't had one of those 
since I was in school. What could Paul have been 
thinking of? What other damage would I find? Gingerly 
I grasped the hem of the T shirt and rolled it up and 
over my head, casting it aside nervously then stared 
carefully at my naked body in the mirror.

My posture sagged with shame but to my relief, there 
were no more love bites immediately visible although 
my chest was flushed pink too. My boobs ached terribly 
and as I carefully inspected them, I noticed there 
were small bruises on the sides as if from fingertips 
and my nipples were very sore. I shuddered as I 
noticed the fading remains of teeth marks on the sides 
of both. 

What had I done? I knew I had to look in one further 
place to find out.

With great trepidation I raised one foot onto the side 
of the bath and bent over to inspect the final 'scene 
of the crime' between my legs. What I saw shocked me. 
Firstly my pubic hair was matted with dried and drying 
semen and the smell of stale sex was palpable. My 
outer lips were angrily swollen, red and puffy, as 
were my inner lips and there were thin trickles of 
semen down the inside of both thighs. There was a 
second large dark love bite on the inside of my left 
thigh too.

Jesus! What had he done to me? What had I let him do? 
And what had I done to him? How on earth could I face 
Tom?

I stepped into the shower and washed and washed myself 
until my skin hurt, as if mere soap and water could 
erase the shame and guilt. My vulva was too sore to 
wash as thoroughly as I wanted with semen oozing from 
me even as I showered, but eventually I felt a little 
more human, stepped onto the bath mat, carefully dried 
myself off, wrapped my body in the towel and nervously 
stepped outside the bathroom door.

In the hallway I realised I had a problem. My clean 
clothes were in our bedroom – a room in which my 
husband and my 'friend' were probably still in bed 
together. I couldn't bear the thought of finding them 
asleep in the same bad, surrounded by the evidence of 
infidelity I had myself left in the room with Paul – 
or even worse, walk in on them having one last fuck 
'for the road'. My dirty clothes were in the room with 
Paul and I couldn't bear to go in there again and face 
my guilt – or have to dissuade Paul from wanting a 
last fuck with me.

What could I do? Well I'm British so obviously I went 
to make tea in the kitchen, still wrapped in my towel, 
hoping none of the kids would come down and see me. 
Ten minutes later, shivering in the cold and hugging a 
warm mug to my bruised chest, I felt a bit better. 
Above my head I could hear the TV playing and the kids 
chatting loudly. I tried to hear what they were saying 
but it was no good.

"Morning..." A muffled voice said from behind me. 

I turned to see Lisa standing in the kitchen doorway 
dressed only in Tom's checked shirt. Something 
prevented us making more than the most fleeting of eye 
contact but in that half-second I was able to take in 
her appearance. Lisa looked as bad as I had felt 
before my shower. Something vindictive in me was 
pleased that this woman nearly ten years younger than 
me could look so bad after a night of passion but then 
I remembered that this was the woman my husband had 
fucked so spectacularly volubly the night before and I 
added anger to my mix of shame and guilt.

"Tea?" I asked as casually as I could manage and she 
nodded, clasping the mug to her chest as I had done 
before sloping away silently towards the bathroom, 
walking a little strangely as if she too was sore...

There was an air of tired, hung-over, guilt-ridden 
tension throughout the cottage as we eventually rose 
and dressed. I wore the dowdiest jeans and highest-
necked top I could find but the hickey was still 
visible above the neckline. Barely a word was 
exchanged as Lisa and the two men took turns to use 
the bathroom. While Paul was in the shower I recovered 
my clothes from his and Lisa's room, shuddering at the 
memory of what had happened there one hours before. 

The terms of our rental meant we all had to be out by 
10am so there was no time for post mortems, 
recriminations or accusation. The kids must have 
realised something was wrong because the four adults 
barely spoke to each other while packing and cleaning 
the cottage, and none of us ate breakfast – we were 
barely able to look each other in the eye.

Finally the two cars were packed and the kids hugged 
and fastened in the back seats. It was the moment I 
had dreaded – goodbye time. With stiff formality, Tom 
shook Paul's hand and kissed Lisa on the cheek. Lisa 
appeared to want to kiss him on the lips but Tom 
avoided them. I kissed Lisa too and she squeezed my 
hand as we parted, looking anxiously into my eyes. I'm 
not sure what she saw. Finally it was my turn to kiss 
Paul goodbye. He pecked me on the cheek as if nothing 
had happened but as he did so he whispered "Call me... 
please!"

And so the holiday came to an awkward, embarrassing 
end.

The journey home was over three hours long and, once 
the kids had settled with their ipods and books, an 
uneasy silence fell between Tom and me. I suppose we 
both knew this had to be discussed but neither of us 
wanted to start. After nearly a whole hour staring out 
of the window and fidgeting painfully on my sore 
bottom, Tom made the first attempt to break the ice.

"Are you... ok?" He ventured. I nodded.

"I'm not sure what happened last night, I..." He 
continued.

"You fucked Lisa right in front of me, that's what 
happened?" I hissed angrily, as if to distract from my 
own guilt. To his credit, Tom didn't react badly.

"I think we both surprised ourselves, don't you? If 
what I heard coming from your room last night is 
anything to go by!" I wondered what exactly he meant. 
Certainly my own behaviour had been quite unlike 
anything I had done before. "I mean we both discovered 
a side to our nature we didn't realise was there."

"I suppose you're right." I replied. "And I suppose if 
we don't talk about it the whole thing will fester and 
cause damage we can't repair. If that's not already 
happened."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean do you want to leave me now?" I said softly 
but firmly.

"For Lisa? I don't think she's on offer!"

"I mean now I'm... soiled goods! Can you live with me 
after what Paul did... what I did...?"

"Do you want to leave me after what I did?" He 
challenged.

"I don't think so. No, I know I don't" I replied after 
a few moments' thought. Tom was visibly relieved. 

"So we'll try and work our way through this? Together? 
Not just for the kids?"

"We'll try. I still love you even though I hate what 
you did. And you must feel the same about me I guess."

"That's good. Because I still love you too but I can't 
bear to think of him doing... all those things I 
heard... to you."

"It wasn't easy for me, hearing all the noise coming 
from our room – OUR room, Tom."

"I know, I'm sorry." He sounded sorry too.

I squeezed his hand and he squeezed mine and silence 
descended but in a much more bearable atmosphere.

"Did you... do it... a lot?" He asked with a shame-
faced look as if not wanting to know the answer but 
unable not to ask the question.

I frowned, desperate to get the confessions over and 
move on – or was it to stop facing my – no, our – 
guilt?

"A few times." Was my cryptic reply. Tom made a 
strange guttural sound as if in distress. "It's not as 
if you were a monk is it?" I hissed angrily. "Lisa's 
squealing woke up Emily. You could hear it all over 
the house!"

"I know!" He hissed back. "She was insatiable. It 
almost scared me!" Now it was my turn to snort in 
derision. "Sorry. But she was."

"Did you... you know... inside her?" I asked, 
remembering how Tom's face looked above mine whenever 
he climaxed within me. It was a face I had previously 
thought only I would ever see.

"Yes." He replied after a pause. There was a longer 
pause then he went on. "Well in the condom anyway. 
Lisa had a box by the bed even though she knows I had 
the 'snip''. 

He thought for another second before asking almost 
threateningly. "Did Paul... cum... inside you too?"

"Yes..." I replied as softly as I could then suddenly 
shot back in my seat. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed in a 
hoarse whisper as realisation dawned. It had clearly 
dawned on Tom too.

"Didn't you use any... protection?" He asked almost 
inaudibly, as if unwilling to utter the words. My 
heart stopped and my blood ran cold.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Was all I could reply.

"What? You didn't?"

"I didn't think. You and I never need it so... I 
didn't think!"

"Christ! You let him cum in you unprotected? All those 
times?"

"Oh my God!"

"You could be pregnant!"

"Jesus! Tom I'm so sorry..."

"He could have knocked you up already! How many times 
did you do it?"

"Three. No, four! I don't knowwww!" I confessed, my 
head sinking into my chest.

"Four times? And you slept with it all inside you all 
night?"

I nodded, my eyes quite unable to meet his. Tom 
breathed in slowly and noisily.

"Well at the very least we have to get you the morning 
after pill really quickly." He croaked. "We'll go to a 
pharmacist on the way back, that way no-one will know 
who you are."

I could feel the tears beginning to run down my 
cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Tom. I didn't mean it to happen. I'm 
sorry any of it happened..." I snuffled, ashamed, as 
if I couldn't even get infidelity right.

To my surprise, he reached across the gear shift and 
held my hand. He squeezed it.

"I'm sorry too. I don't know what came over us. 
Neither of us should have done it. It's not your fault 
– well not just your fault. There's enough guilt to go 
round."

There was a long pause. I stared out of the window at 
the fields flashing past.

"Do you think we will get over it?" I asked through my 
drying tears. Tom didn't reply straight away.

"Do you want to?" He eventually countered. I nodded 
emphatically, adding: 

"If you can forgive me."

Tom went silent for what seemed like a long time but 
can only have been a couple of minutes.

"I can if you can." He eventually whispered, raising 
my hand to his lips.

I dissolved in tears.

Later on in the journey we pulled off the motorway and 
stopped for lunch in a market town nearby. While Tom 
took the kids to McDonalds – something I would never 
have allowed in normal circumstances – I found a 
medium sized pharmacy and obtained the morning after 
pill, not without more than a few white lies. We 
returned home with a rather lighter atmosphere in the 
car.

***

Lisa called me on my mobile that evening but I didn't 
take the call. She left a voicemail message hoping we 
were both OK and reassuring us that the 'first time' 
was always difficult. She said we should feel free to 
talk to either of them if we felt we needed to.

I didn't call back.

The next two weeks were difficult for Tom and me as we 
tried to maintain a 'normal' household for the kids 
while trying to adjust to the fact that we had both 
been so easily persuaded to be unfaithful. It didn't 
always work and several times either Tom lost his 
temper or I burst into tears for no reason the kids 
could either see or understand.

Needless to say, neither of us wanted sex for a while. 
Both of us had ended the weekend sore – very sore in 
my case - and Tom couldn't bear to get intimate with 
me while I still bore the 'hickey' marks of my 
infidelity. Outside the house I wore high collars and 
scarves but Tom could still see them when we were at 
home. His own hickeys were fading much faster but once 
mine began to fade too, things started to return to 
something closer to 'normal'.

Then, just when it looked like we had put the worst of 
the problem behind us, I missed my period and we found 
out that the pills had failed and I was pregnant with 
what could only have been Paul's child. When I came 
out of the bathroom with the home test in my hand we 
were both stunned. 

To my relief there were no rows; no shouting; only a 
few tears, mostly from me.

I met Lisa for coffee a few days later on 'neutral 
ground'. We talked awkwardly about the usual stuff but 
we both knew that we had to talk over that night and I 
eventually found the courage to begin. 

What Lisa said surprised me. It seems she and Paul 
have been low-level swingers for some years and 
thought Tom and I had been sending out signs we were 
interested during the week. I could almost see what 
she meant – certainly I had been much more flirty than 
normal and had certainly watched Paul more than 
perhaps I should – but there had never been any 
intention on my part at least.

It seems that leaving hickeys to 'mark' your conquests 
is part of the swinging game, and helps keep the 
memory of the thrill in you and your partner's minds 
for longer. She even hinted that she and Paul would 
like a repeat performance but I pretended I hadn't 
understood that suggestion. Lisa asked me several 
times if I was alright about when had happened and I 
tried to pass it off as an interesting experience. I 
didn't tell her that I was actually pregnant with 
Paul's baby as I sat opposite her – some things need 
to remain secret. 

Thank goodness neither Tom nor I even considered 
keeping the baby and within two weeks I had a 
termination. Tom held my hand throughout the whole 
process which helped repair the bond between us 
further. They also tested both of us for STDs which 
hadn't occurred to either of us. Fortunately there 
were none.

Now the physical scars have vanished and the 
psychological ones are fading too. We won't be quite 
the same again but at least we are a family still. We 
still see Lisa and Paul, mostly for the kids' sake, 
but we won't be going on holiday with them again.

In a quiet moment, I do sometimes remember what was 
without question the best, most exciting sex of my 
life. But there's more to life than just sex and I 
think my swinging days are over. 

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 74