Dangerous Liaison, Part I: Tiffany and I Play Fast and Loose with Intimacy Lines
Meanwhile, her husband pounds my wife in the next bedroom. It’s a night of delicious hotwifing and hot-husbanding.
Note to reader: The following is a true story of a recent sexual encounter between Tiffany and me. If it causes you to have any concern about the health of Lauren’s and my marriage, worry not. Sometimes, those of us who participate in the swinger lifestyle can fly a bit too close to the sun, as happened with Tiffany and me. Fortunately, no one’s wings got burned. It’s all good.
I’m awash in excitement as I pull Tiffany’s tight, black dress up and run my hands along her firm, round hips and back to her ass cheeks, all so beautifully sculpted from her favorable genetics and well-honed physical fitness. She’s wearing no panties.
While I fondle her ass cheeks, our tongues meet and Tiffany gets to work unbuckling my belt, unbuttoning my slacks and even unzipping my fly. No sooner have my slacks fallen to the floor than she carefully pulls down my boxer briefs — her eyes on me all the while — and takes into her hand what she seems to most desire: my phallus of seven throbbing inches.
I lovingly bite her lip and she smiles before our tongues again meet. Feeling her sexual heat — I’m sure she can feel mine, too — I’m struggling to contain all I’m experiencing. I’m having a hard time keeping this a purely sexual encounter and nothing more. I hope my wife, Lauren, isn’t having the same challenges with Tiffany’s husband, Patrick, in a bedroom down the hallway in their palatial home in the hills not far from where we live.
I’ve never made any attempt to conceal from my bride my intense attraction and draw to Tiffany, a 44-year-old redhead with fair skin, girlish freckles that she attempts to conceal with makeup, a seductive smile and a 5'6" body that might well have been shaped and proportioned to sheer perfection by the most generous hands of nature itself. Her deadly feminine curves are eye-popping and her eroticism intoxicating. The opportunity tonight to enjoy this luscious woman — a devoted mother of two — thrills me.
I wonder if Patrick is thinking the same things about my wife. I’m sure he is. How could he not? But honestly, right now, as I pull off Tiffany’s club dress — a slutty get-up that’s tight enough to be a second skin — I’m too enraptured by her to worry much about what’s happening in the bedroom down the hall even if it involves Tiffany’s husband, with his nearly eight-inch cock, and my wife having their way with each other.
“Do you want me?” Tiffany asks submissively, pumping my hardened flesh with her beautiful hand. Our eyes are locked and I consider for a moment how I might answer. I could say, oh, yes, I want you and that would be the truth. Or, I could, as I’m now doing, remove her plunge bra, which she’s wearing because her dress has a low, revealing cut showcasing her breasts, and let that be my answer.
Her breasts now in my hands — she says they’re 36C cups but they look and feel so much larger — we again tongue kiss and I can feel my sexual yearning for her reach an explosive level. Few times in my life have I desired a woman as much as I lust after Tiffany in this moment.
I’ve never tired of fucking her and, whenever we do go horizontal together, we seem to get dangerously close to the implicit intimacy boundaries of the swinger lifestyle and play fast and lose with established rules. It gets a little harder every time to pull out of her, a little harder not to want to hook up with her on the side as a fuck buddy, a little harder not develop feelings for her — all things we mustn’t do. Alas, with her, desire comes easily.
These are the risks of the lifestyle we all practice — Lauren and I, Tiffany and Patrick, and our many friends we play hard with. I rationalize all of these temptations and desires I especially feel when I’m in a sexual situation with Tiffany by telling myself I feel no love for her — and I (think I) don’t. What I feel for her is just overpowering sexual chemistry that clouds my judgment and blurs lines I ought not cross in moments of extreme passion and yearning like this one.
“Do you want me?” she repeats, giving me that seductive smile of hers, which she knows can cast a spell over almost any man. I again kiss her and I can tell from how our tongues dance together in each’s mouths that she’s feeling every bit the carnal desire I am. She continues to pump my dick with her hand, surely aware from my oozing pre-cum that I’m approaching climax. Dare I say — dare I even think — that in this moment of complete and utter-fucking desire for each other that we may have waded a bit too far into the waters of lust where anything can happen.
Still cupping one of her ample breasts, I reach with my other hand for the essence of her femininity. As my fingers make their way to the destination, I can feel the bones of her womanly hips, and I explore her firm midsection, which, like Lauren’s, is hard-earned from lots of time in the gym. Finally, I reach Tiffany’s vagina, so ultra-smooth and pretty. I discover that it’s flowing like a river of milk and honey. I can’t wait to taste her.
“Yes, I want you badly,” I finally answer, feeling my self-control evaporate.
She likes my answer because she again smiles seductively, signaling she’s all mine.
I lay Tiffany back in the plush king-sized bed in one of the many guest rooms in their gigantic house and carefully roll off her black thigh-high hose, leaving her in her garter belt. I get on top of her and spend a few moments licking and sucking on her nipples as if she were my own wife. This all feels very intimate to me. I shouldn’t do this. But I can’t seem to resist.
I trace my tongue down her abdomen and push back on her velvety thighs, giving me complete access to her warm, wet cunt, for which I feel a deep hunger. When I lick into her, she exhales and whimpers and runs her hands through my hair. She tastes so fresh and delish, and I can’t imagine a woman other than my own bride delighting my senses as much as Tiffany is now.
Her clitoris is swollen and it’s easy to enjoy all that’s in my mouth — virtually her entire vulva — as I eat her pussy. Over the years, I’ve licked many pussies, but I haven’t eaten every pussy. Tonight, I’m feasting on hers.
She orgasms quickly in my mouth while I fondle her breasts and pinch her hard nipples. I continue to devour her cunt, and she orgasms again about five minutes later.
As she descends from the high of her second orgasm, I sink my tongue as far into her feminine depths as I can. I want as much of her as I can get. This woman is irresistible.
I look up at Tiffany — my face covered with her wetness — and she smiles. She’s still a bit out of it from her back-to-back climaxes, and her long, red hair is disheveled. She’s so beautiful. Something about her has always stirred all kinds of naughty desires in me, some we’ve acted on….
She says not a word but I can tell what she craves as she eyes me stroking myself. Finally, she licks her lips and verbalizes her desire.
“I wanna suck your cock,” she says softly, well-aware that her words please me.
On my knees, I crawl to her side and present to my lover tonight my dick, aching and leaking my salty appetizer all for her enjoyment.
Stroking my manhood, she smiles — that seductive grin of hers. Then she whorishly licks her lips to heighten my excitement. I feel giddy because I know all too well that Tiffany, like my Scandinavian bride down the hallway with Patrick, enjoys few things more than a hard cock to suck. She hungrily takes my flesh into her mouth, and I can tell within ten seconds that this is no foreplay blowjob. Tiffany has every intention of closing the deal.
From this position — me on my knees and her lying on her side — no detail is spared in the dimly lit room, where we have the Cannons playing for ambience. I have an unfettered view of all the lovely action. She looks confidently in my eyes as she sucks my dick and pumps my shaft with her hand.
Once she gets what she desires, I’m sure she’ll then want to fuck, and she’ll let me pound her anyway I wish — as she always does. In the meantime, the sexual pleasure Tiffany is giving me in her mouth is simply overwhelming. I can’t imagine in this moment anything that could feel more blissful. The way she’s sucking me, I can tell she’s enjoying this delicious sex act as much as I am. Like Lauren, she’s always been more a giver than receiver. She’s a generous lover.
Tiffany is making me feel wanted — desired — and I’m able to give myself to her in this moment of oral ecstasy and let her take me sexually to where she pleases. I have no worries. Instead, on my knees observing her blow me, I’m hers. I’m relaxed. I’m at peace.
She licks and sucks on my balls intermittently but never neglects my cock for more than a few seconds at a time. I feel my ejaculation building, and surely she knows I’m on the precipice of explosion.
Here it comes….
“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah,” I whimper while I erupt, my cum coursing into Tiffany’s mouth. She decides to have some fun and allow my sperm to not just flood her mouth but also shoot across her cheek. She’s enjoying it all.
Still pumping my shaft even after I’ve shot my wad, she smiles — happy to have gotten what she craved. She licks and gently sucks on my glans, milking a few more drops, and I watch her trachea move, signaling she swallowed the load.
With her finger, she scrapes the semen on her face into her mouth and giggles girlishly — quite bashfully. Almost instinctively, which scares me a bit — those needs I feel when I’m around her — I fall into her arms and we kiss. It’s moments like this, in Tiffany’s arms and tasting the salty remains of my spunk as we kiss, that I feel dangerously close to violating the boundaries of intimacy Lauren and I set for our lifestyle. Tiffany feels like not just a sex partner tonight. Something else…..
I feel guilty thinking this is a woman I could be happy with if I weren’t so blessed to be married to Lauren. I shouldn’t think these things. I wonder if Patrick, who I’m sure is pounding Lauren at this moment, has the same thoughts about my wife. Is Lauren also having these thoughts about Patrick while he thrusts his eight-incher in and out of her twat? Or, maybe they’re also in each other’s arms?
Holding Tiffany, I tell myself not to feel too much guilt because I know tonight Lauren and I, after getting home and showering together, will fall asleep in each other’s arms. Tonight will end as it should. It always does.
But here and now, in bed with Tiffany and in each other’s arms as if we’re lovers, we kiss. This all feels so affectionate and intimate — and I like it. I’m confused by my feelings, confused by our kissing, by our hand-holding, by the tenderness of our touch, by the way her leg is wrapped around me, by how good she smells.
With almost no effort, Tiffany has me hard again and is pumping my shaft with her hand, ready for what’s next.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispers, “but what I just did to you…. No one else is more fun to do that to.”
I let her words sink in before I respond.
“Not even Patrick?” I ask.
“He doesn’t count,” she counters playfully.
“What makes me so fun?” I ask, enjoying the pleasure of her hand-job and eager for her answer.
“Because,” she replies, “I can tell you really enjoy it, and you let me do what I want and don’t force anything, and I love that about you.”
We kiss again. Tiffany feels like so much more than tonight’s fuck buddy. Oh my god, what’s happening? I think to myself. I decide to open up.
“Is it okay that in this moment, things feel a little…overwhelming?” I ask her.
“What do you mean by overwhelming?” she queries.
“We’re in each other’s arms, kissing, holding hands,” I answer.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ”
“Don’t be sorry. I like it,” I reassure her.
She giggles. “I like it, too.”
And then she says something no woman since Lauren has ever said to me.
“Make love to me.”
Accepting her sultry invitation, I get on top of Tiffany and we kiss. She looks seductively into my eyes. She’s awash with desire and wants everything I’m about to give her. To my delight, she plays with her nipples as I push back on her thighs.
Our eyes remain locked as I easily and effortlessly slide all seven of my inches into her. I’m completely inside her.
Then, something else happens that’s never happened in 15 years in the lifestyle. Tiffany holds both of my hands as we kiss and, dare I say, make love as she asked us to do.
“What’s happening?” I whisper into her ear while our bodies move as one.
“I don’t know,” she whispers back, breathing hard. “But it feels so good, so special — ”
“Let’s go with it but it needs to go no further than this room tonight,” I say, trying desperately to believe my own words and rationalize what’s happening.
“I know,” she says softly, vulnerably.
Moving together, we continue to make love. Tiffany pulls back on her legs, allowing me to thrust deeply into her, to give her all of my manhood.
Her pussy is dripping wet and her well-lubed, soft vagina feels heavenly. We’re fucking just hard enough for her tits to jiggle, and my pleasure is so intense that I can practically see stars.
Our eyes on each other, in this moment two sexual creatures are connecting at a deep, primal level. The desire I’m feeling is overpowering, the sensations enrapturing.
My ejaculation quickly builds but I can’t seem to will myself to pull out of Tiffany. I want — no, need — to fill her insides, bathe her cervix in my semen, faux-impregnate her, consummate what’s happening between us. But if I cum inside her, I’ll cross a forbidden line.
Who needs to know? I ask myself.
Tiffany squeezes my hand and looks lovingly at me, ready to accept anything I wish.
Dutifully, I pull out of her but probably not quite in time. I’m sure some of my ejaculate got inside her. As I groan with pleasure, she pumps my dick while semen rockets out of me, slathering her bare pussy, her trim midsection and her breasts.
I look deeply into Tiffany’s eyes and she appears happy and content by what just happened. And so am I.
She rubs her fingers through some of the semen splattered on her body, which I take as an act of acceptance.
Then we tenderly kiss, our tongues once again meeting.
After I clean her up with a washcloth, we get under the covers together and hold each other, kissing as lovers do. This kissing…it feels different. It’s not foreplay kissing. It’s something else…..
Finally, she speaks.
“What happened just now, I feel like it was two people connecting in a beautiful way. It was so special, so tender….”
She breathes in deeply, trying to collect herself. She’s a thoughtful woman who chooses her words carefully. And then she adds: “It doesn’t change anything about Lauren for you or Patrick for me. It happened. We felt something tonight that I for one didn’t expect to feel — ”
“Neither did I,” I interject.
“And that’s okay,” she continues. “It doesn’t change anything. It happened. And sometimes things happen between people in this lifestyle.”
We kiss again.
“Do you love me?” I ask her.
“That’s hard to answer. Even if I have feelings for you, I can’t let that happen, but right now it’s hard,” she replies.
I consider her words.
“Do you love me?” she asks.
“In another life, I could,” I answer.
We kiss tenderly and she reaches for my hand.
“We should get downstairs,” she says reluctantly.
Tiffany gets out of bed and walks naked into the bathroom, where she fetches two bathrobes for us.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she states, putting on her robe while she hands the other to me.
And then we kiss again.
“It doesn’t change anything,” she says again, whispering in my ear.
I try to believe her.
