I enjoy other men's wives. I enjoy single women too but there's something special about a married one. Of course, it's that taste of forbidden fruit, knowing that when she opens her arms -- and legs -- to you she is breaking those sacred vows and you are taking something that was promised to another man alone.
The only thing I can't decide is whether it's better if the husband knows or not.
What follows are our thoughts we would like to share with you about a subject that is directly related to our personal relationship, we are swingers. We swing as a married couple. We have been active swingers for several years now and enjoy it very much. We understand that it's not for everyone, in fact, I guess it's something that very few couples in society would ever consider participating in. We understand that!
I have been home from work barely five minutes when there's a knock at my door.
I open it and smile at the tall, skinny man standing outside my door.
"Natalie." He leans forward and kisses both of my cheeks, his hand caressing the back of my neck.
"Come in," I step back and give him room. "Where are we heading tonight Sammy?" I ask, returning his kisses.
Michael flew into the small northern town for a two-day conference. A hotel, a travel budget, and a new place to explore, even a small town, was enough distraction to ensure he wouldn't be bored even if Laura hadn't decided to take charge of his evening hours.
Laura met him at the conference on the first day. She was attending as a representative of a local company.
Father Flanagan slowly woke up as the morning light crept through the bedroom window. His head hurt. He looked around. That's not my dresser, he thought. And this isn't my bed. Where am I?
Turning, he saw a woman lying next to him, on her side, facing away from him. She was naked, and had long blonde hair. She looked a lot like his late wife. Then he remembered.
Several pictures of her were tucked into the sides of the mirror over his dresser. Most were school pictures, and one was of the two of them together, their arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling at the camera. My hand, holding the brush that I had picked up from amidst the clutter on his dresser, stopped in mid-air as I peered at those pictures.
It's funny how things that are so horrible when you first encounter them become normal and even desirable. Days flowed into weeks since that night when I first developed a taste for blood. God, it was revolting – at first. Then it became bearable. Then I found myself growing restless, fucking whomever Zeph wanted me to fuck, doing whatever he wanted me to do just as long as I got to taste him when it was over. What a horrible addiction – but I needed it. I needed that sweet metallic taste on my lips.
I was told that the drive into Camp Larry Horton would relieve me of all my fears. I was skeptical, of course. This was my first full-time position as a young adult camp coordinator and nothing seemed capable of alleviating the butterflies in my stomach.
But soon after turning off the main road onto the dirt and gravel path leading to the camp, I began to believe. Dense woods on either side of the car quickly blocked out civilization's existence.
When Gloria first walked into her apartment, she noticed the wet foot print on the carpet instantly. A pinch in her gut became a punch as the back of her neck blossomed goose bumps quickly. The adrenaline was flowing fast through her body as she took a cautious step into her kitchen to reach the phone. She held onto the receiver but did not dial.
Summer was coming to a close, and Jason was about to start his final year of high school. All his life he had let his neurotic over-analytical nature control how he interacted with people. He had always put too much thought into everything, and as such had wasted his childhood. He believed he was unpopular, and therefore he was. With the social experience he had gained over the summer however: after having turned 18, going to parties, and fucking a busty young mall rat senseless, Jason was ready to improve his social standing. Life was finally a game he was ready to play.