I felt disheartened as I sat in the car, waiting for Victor to leave. I felt paralyzed, in shock, my eyes focused on the door of the apartment building, waiting for it to open and Victor to walk out.
The images ran through my head, of Jen straddling Victor and her long blonde hair swaying across her shoulders as she moved up and down on his cock. I couldn't get over how sexy Jen looked as she rode him, nude except for a garter belt, black stockings, and ankle strap high heels. Her choice of lingerie pained me as much as seeing them fuck. For years I had been after my wife to wear thigh highs and stiletto heels, but she rarely did. But she wore them for Victor.
Finally the door opened, and Victor left. I waited a few minutes more, and then went up to our apartment.
"Hi," I said tentatively, seeing Jen in bed. She looked freshly showered, and it looked like she had changed the sheets. I took off my clothes and moved to join her under the covers, but she stopped me.
"Could you take a shower first?" she gently asked, and I felt like an idiot. I had forgotten all about being with Monique that night. The sight of Jen with Victor had driven thoughts of Monique from my mind.
"Sure, sure," I said quickly, and I quickly hurried to the shower. I emerged a few minutes later, still toweling my hair. Jen smiled and pulled back the covers, inviting me to join her.
"Did you have fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was okay."
"Just okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. For some reason, I had an urgent need to find out how Jen felt about Victor. Maybe I hoped she had faked those moans and orgasms, that she didn't enjoy fucking him as much as it seemed. Or maybe the masochistic part of me wanted to hear my wife admit how much she adored getting pounded by the well-hung black man. "Monique told me Victor was really good in bed."
Jen hesitated, and looked away from me. "He is good, I guess," she said after a few moments.
"Monique said Victor's hung like a horse." I laughed, trying to sound like I didn't care. "So is it true, bigger is better?"
"I don't know. It's different." Jen frowned, and her tone became defensive, almost angry. "Why do you care?"
"Why do I care? Honey, you're my wife. We might be experimenting with swinging, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, and how you're getting along with Victor. I mean, I know his penis is bigger than mine. I'm just wondering if that makes a difference, if it feels better."
Jen's anger melted away. "Honey, he's not better than you," she said in a soft voice. She rubbed my arm affectionately. "It's just different, that's all."
Jen paused. "Is it better with Monique?" she asked hesitantly, concern in her face. "She's so beautiful."
I took my wife into my arms. "Honey, I'll admit, it's exciting to be with someone new. It's probably the same way for you, to be with Victor. But there's no one prettier than you."
Jen beamed. "You liar," she said playfully, punching me. "Monique's a model. She was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue -- twice! -- and Playboy wanted her to be Miss January or July or something, but by then she had met Victor, and he won't let her."
"What? I knew about the SI swimsuit issue, but not Playboy."
Jen punched me again, harder this time. "You jerk!"
I laughed and took her again into my arms. "Honey, I don't care what Monique was in, or almost in. You're way prettier than her, and sexier too." Feeling a little surprised, I realized I meant it. Yes, Monique was beautiful and alluring. But Jen had everything that Monique had, and more. Jen's face was prettier than Monique's, although this was probably debatable and depended on whether you liked blondes better than brunettes. Her body was just as firm, and her ass and legs were way better than Monique's. Monique had bigger breasts, but Jen's were full and perfectly shaped, and there were lots of guys (including me) who preferred girls with tiny tits.
Jen had better raw material than Monique. If Jen tried, she could blow Monique away in looks and sexiness. I wondered if Victor knew that. Maybe he saw beyond Jen's scant use of makeup and near-shapeless clothing, and recognized her potential to be something really special.
The thought upset me. It took Jen fucking another man for me to fully appreciate her beauty and sexiness. I got on top of Jen, intent on correcting my mistake.
"Honey, you're so pretty, much sexier than Monique," I said as I pushed my hard cock into her pussy. She welcomed me, opening her legs and wrapping her arms around me. But despite my renewed passion for my wife, I started softening. Jen's pussy wasn't as tight as usual, which wasn't a surprise since she had just fucked Victor who knows how many times. There wasn't enough friction to keep me hard, and Jen also didn't seem to be enjoying it much.
Concern spread through me, as I wondered if I'd ever get my wife's tight pussy back. I thought again at how Victor's enormous cock stretched Jen's pussy so. Would her pussy ever return to normal, the way it used to be, where it fit my penis like a glove?
I was pleasantly surprised to realize I was hard again. I could still barely feel the walls of Jen's pussy. What happened to get me excited? Suddenly, I realized the more I thought about Victor fucking Jen, the harder I got.
A mixture of jealousy and arousal flooded over me. I didn't want to think about Jen getting banged by Victor with his massive black cock. But the more I thought about it, the more aroused I became. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to playback in my head. I remembered how Jen had wrapped her stocking-clad legs around Victor, and how she dug her stiletto heels into the back of his thighs to urge him deeper inside her. Within moments I came, my sperm joining Victor's that he had deposited in Jen earlier that evening.
*************************
I'm not one of those guys who fantasize about his wife getting fucked by other men. Wife watching and cuckold fantasies had never turned me on before. But over the next week I couldn't get the images of Jen and Victor out of my mind. I had a constant hard-on, and I even masturbated a few times in the bath room at work.
It wasn't just the images, it was also what they had said.
"You like my big fat cock? Do you? Do you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I like it, it feels so good."
"Do I fuck you better than your husband? Am I better?"
"Ohhhh godddd. Better ... better ... and so much bigger!"
The memories hurt, and left me jealous and insecure. But somehow, these feelings intensified my arousal.
They frightened me, too. I had ventured into this wife swapping lifestyle so I could bed Monique. Now, though, my interest was shifting from Monique to Victor and Jen. The thought of them together got me hard. But did I want to risk letting Victor have Jen again? What if she got addicted to his cock? Was I somehow a closet gay, getting off on seeing huge black cocks fucking petite blonde pussy? All these thoughts were disturbing and upset me. Yet, whenever I thought about it -- thought about Victor fucking my wife -- I got hard and masturbated to a ferocious orgasm.
"Victor called me today," I said a few days later. I had considered not saying anything, but knew Jen would eventually find out. "He wanted to know if we planned to be at the club this weekend."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd get back to him. Do you want to go?"
Jen hesitated. It seemed like she was picking her words carefully. "I guess we have to," she finally said. "Don't you need to network with these people for your job?"
"Yeah, but I've been thinking ... maybe the club isn't the best thing for us. This thing we've been doing with Victor and Monique. Maybe we should stop. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't know," Jen replied noncommittally. "Monique invited me to lunch tomorrow. I'm sorry, she asked me today, and I forgot to tell you. Anyway, it might be a little awkward if we don't go to the club after she takes me to lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah, I guess." I searched Jen's face. Her tone was still neutral, but I sensed a little -- apprehension? Was she afraid I wouldn't agree to go to the club? Was she concerned I'd object to her sleeping with Victor again?
"Well, then, I guess we better go. I'll call Victor and let him know we'll be there."
"Okay, if you think that's best," Jen said, shrugging nonchalantly, acting like she didn't care either way. Yet, did her face show a little relief, maybe even a little excitement?
*************************
Jen fidgeted nervously as she waited for Monique to arrive. She dreaded lunch with Monique. It wasn't like she was going to lunch with a girl friend, or even a casual acquaintance. She had slept with Monique's husband! Was Monique planning on confronting her, telling her to stay away from Victor? God, why had she ever agreed to this lunch? But she couldn't really say no, and Monique had been so nice to her over the phone.
"Oh Jen, I'm so sorry for being late," Monique said a few minutes later. She hugged Jen and kissed her on the cheek. "Traffic was terrible. But I'm so happy to see you!"
Jen's apprehension diminished as they sipped wine and gossiped about people at the club. Soon they were giggling like school girls and acting like best friends.
Monique leaned back in her chair and her eyes drifted to below the table. "Jen, you really should wear shorter skirts," she admonished in a playful, motherly voice. "Your legs are so nice, you should show them off."
Jen giggled. "Oh my god, you sound like Victor." Then she realized what she said, and brought her hand to her mouth, horrified. "I'm sorry, that was so insensitive, I wasn't thinking --"
Monique smiled. "Jen, it's okay," she said reassuringly. "I don't mind you're sleeping with my husband. This is something we do, we have an open marriage. It's fun, exciting, to play with other people. Variety is the spice of life. The club is really a wonderful place for that."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Everyone is really fit and good looking. Well, most people anyway. And many are open to having some harmless fun." Monique looked quizzically at Jen. "Have any other men approached you yet?"
Jen looked taken aback, shocked. "No!" she said quickly.
Monique laughed and squeezed Jen's hand affectionately. "It's okay, honey, let yourself have fun. I'm sure Michael wouldn't mind -- he seems to like swinging. In fact, Victor will probably mind more than Michael. My husband's really taken with you."
Jen was speechless. She hadn't considered being with other people. She was still trying to get use to the idea of her extramarital activities with Victor. "Well, no one's shown any interest," she said, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh Jen," Monique said, suddenly serious. "There's a lot of interest in you. A lot."
Jen blushed. Were people talking about her at the club, openly talking about her affair with Victor, wondering who would bed her next? She felt like a piece of meat, and practically shuddered at the thought.
Suddenly Jen felt Monique's hand on her thigh. "You believe me, don't you? You're so young and pretty, and you have such a cute body. Lots of people would like to get to know you better. And not just men."
Jen turned scarlet. "Um, well," she stammered, feeling Monique's caresses on her bare thigh.
Monique giggled at Jen's obvious discomfort, and pulled her hand away. "Don't worry, I won't **** you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "But sometimes, Victor and I like to share a pretty girl. You'll think about it, won't you? I know you'll like it."
"Um, sure, I guess," Jen said, feeling more awkward than she had ever felt in her life.
Monique squeezed Jen's hand again. "Jen, you should listen to Victor, you really should. Wear shorter skirts. Your legs are so nice. Dress sexier at the club, and flirt more. You'll have so much fun teasing all the boys, you really will."
"Um, okay." Then Jen realized Monique hadn't mentioned Michael. "Do you hear people talking about Michael?"
"Oh, don't worry about Michael," Monique said almost dismissively. "I told you, the people in the club are fun. There'll be a lot of wives who'll sleep with Michael, so their husbands can sleep with you."
Jen slowly leaned back in her chair, feeling shocked. "Do you mean -- did Victor force you to sleep with Michael, so he could sleep with me?"
Monique looked shocked. "He didn't force me, of course not. I like Michael, he's sweet. I'm just saying, in a good marriage where both spouses are open minded and like to have fun, sometimes the wife will sleep with someone she might not otherwise, so her husband can sleep with the girl he wants. And sometimes it's the other way around."
"So ... you mean, you wouldn't have slept with Michael, if Victor hadn't wanted to sleep with me?"
Monique grimaced. "That makes it sound so bad. I like Michael, I really do. He's just not my type."
"Well, um ... what is your type?"
Monique smiled mischievously. "Honey, I think you know my type. And, from what Victor tells me, you like the same type. I mean, I'm not obsessed about size. I've enjoyed playing with lots of guys who aren't as big as Victor. I mean, hardly anyone's as big as my husband. But Michael -- he's really small, isn't he?"
"No he's not!"
"Oh, okay," Monique said, backing off quickly upon hearing the anger and indignation in Jen's voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just ... well, I had assumed that's why you and Michael were getting into swinging. He was letting you experience men with -- you know -- men who were better endowed."
"No, that's not why. We just thought ... I don't know ... I guess we thought it might be fun to experiment with other people for a while."
"Okay, well, that's understandable." Monique was quiet for a moment, and then her curiosity got the better of her. "So ... size doesn't make a difference to you?"
Jen crossed her arms defiantly. "It doesn't make a difference with most women," she said, remembering things she had read in magazines.
Monique seemed to read Jen's mind. "Women say that, I know, but -- well -- it didn't feel different being with Victor?"
"Well, of course it felt different!" Jen said without thinking, exasperated. "Your husband's as big as a horse!" Jen scowled at Monique, and then realized the outrageousness of what she had just said. The two girls looked into each other's eyes, and then broke out laughing, the tension between then immediately easing. They laughed so long their stomachs ached.
Tipsy from wine and still feeling silly from laughing so hard, Jen's curiosity got the better of her. "So, do you really think Michael's that small? I mean, compared to other men you've been with?"
Monique didn't answer. Instead, she squeezed Jen's hand and smiled caringly, a sympathetic look on her face.
*************************
Jen tightly clutched Michael's hand as they entered the club. She was wearing the lycra dress again, the one Victor had sent her a few weeks ago, just before she and Michael visited them at their mansion. The dress was so revealing she almost hadn't worn it then, and that was back when only Victor and Michael were going to see her in it. Now, lots of guys were going to see her in the dress, and butterflies flittered through her stomach as she nervously held onto her husband's arm.
Jen felt every male head turn as she walked by. She blushed, feeling like a piece of meat on display. Did they know about her affair with Victor? Jen remembered what Monique had said. "There's a lot of interest in you, a lot." Did these men think she was available? Were they hoping to sleep with her? Jen nervously glanced around. Many of the men were hungrily leering at her. She clutched Michael's arm even tighter.
"There you are, I've been looking for you two." Michael and Jen turned and saw a smiling Monique approaching. Jen was relieved to see her friend. Monique hugged Michael and kissed him hello on the cheek. Jen felt a twinge of jealousy, but she knew it was silly to feel that way given the situation. Then Monique linked her arm with Jen's. "Honey, come with me to the ladies room," she said cheerily.
"You look so good!" Monique said, eyeing Jen up and down after closing the bathroom door. "I wish my legs were as long and slim as yours, I'm so envious."
"Oh stop that, your legs are fantastic," Jen said, glancing down at Monique's legs. Monique wore a mini-dress that showed even more leg than Jen's, and her legs were encased in black hose, just like Jen. Even while returning the compliment, Jen knew that Monique was right, her legs were nicer. The realization made her feel good, but then she felt guilty and catty. "Anyway, your breasts are so much bigger than mine," Jen quickly added, the admission easing her guilt.
Monique beamed and gave Jen a hug. "Size isn't everything, honey," Monique said. Then both girls remembered their last conversation about penis size, and giggled. Even while laughing, Jen felt guilty, knowing part of the joke involved Michael's size. Monique sensed the sudden cloud over Jen's mood, and frowned. "Honey, you need to learn how to relax and have fun."
Jen shrugged, uncertain what Monique meant. "I wore this dress." While walking to the bathroom, the static cling of the lycra against her stockings caused her dress to hike up her legs. "It's so short, I'm afraid people will see my stocking tops," Jen said, tugging down her dress.
Monique laughed. "Honey, everyone already knows you're wearing stockings! The dress is so tight you can see the bumps of your garter belt."
Jen looked down and was horrified to see that Monique was right. How hadn't she noticed this before? "Oh my god, I can't go out like this," she said anxiously.
Monique squeezed Jen's arm reassuringly. "Honey, this is what I mean, you worry too much. Anyway, men like seeing garter bumps, you'll have them eating out of your hand. Just remember, whenever you wear a clingy dress like this, you're on display. Dresses like this don't hide much. Men will know you're wearing a bra, too. They'll be able to see your bra strap as easily as I can."
"Oh," Jen said, feeling foolish. She wasn't used to wearing tight, sexy clothes like this. "So ... are there different bras I should wear?"
Monique giggled. "No, silly. You shouldn't wear a bra at all."
"I can't do that," Jen said warily. "The material is so thin."
"Of course you can. I'm not wearing a bra, and neither are most of the girls out there tonight." Without asking for permission, Monique unzipped Jen's dress. In one quick motion, she unsnapped the back clasp of Jen's strapless bra, and pulled it away. Then Monique re-zipped Jen's dress. Both girls looked into the mirror. The clingy fabric of the lycra dress molded itself around Jen's small breasts. "You look lovely," Monique said admiringly, unable to take her eyes off Jen's perfectly shaped mounds. "Your breasts are so firm, you don't need a bra."
Jen looked doubtful. "But, the material's so thin --"
"'that you might be able to see your nipples, if you get excited?" Monique said, completing Jen's sentence. "Let's see."
Monique stepped back so she stood directly behind Jen. Monique was taller than Jen, so she easily looked into the mirror over Jen's shoulder. Before she could protest, Monique moved her hands to Jen's chest and cupped her friend's breasts. "You're so firm," Monique cooed as she fondled Jen's tits. She easily found Jen's nipples through the stretchy lycra material and rubbed them between her thumbs and fingers. "God, your nipples get so hard."
Jen didn't know what to do. Looking in the mirror, she watched as Monique fondled her. She couldn't help moaning as Monique rubbed her ultra sensitive nipples. She felt unsteady on her feet, and reached back to steady herself. In doing so she clutched Monique's thigh, and felt the garter belt strap through the fabric of the older woman's mini-dress. Jen reflexively pulled her hand away, but Monique grasped Jen's hand and brought it back to her thigh. "It's alright honey, I won't bite." Monique pulled up her skirt so Jen's hand was on her lacy stocking top. Then Monique covered Jen's hand with hers, and moved Jen's hand until it rested on her garter strap. Jen couldn't believe how soft Monique's skin felt, and without thinking began caressing her friend's thigh. "Oh yeah honey, that feels good," Monique breathed into Jen's ear.
Jen watched herself and Monique in the mirror, as if watching strangers in a movie. She continued to caress Monique's ******* thigh as Monique cupped and fondled her breasts. Then Monique lowered her hands, her eyes on Jen's bosom. "You're right," she said. "Your erect nipples do show through the dress. But don't worry. Men like that. And Victor prefers his girls to go braless."
Monique slid her hands down Jen's front, over her firm tummy, and then still downward. She grasped Jen's skirt and pulled it up, ******** her stocking tops, then garter straps, and finally her lacy black panties. "So pretty," Monique said as she eyed the camel toe formed in Jen's wet panties. Monique wrapped Jen's soft blonde hand in her hand and gently tugged, pulling Jen's head back. "You're so pretty," Monique said softly, gazing into Jen's face. Then Monique covered Jen's lips with hers.
Jen tried to pull away, but the taller woman held her tight. Monique snaked her tongue into Jen's mouth, and despite herself, Jen couldn't help noticing how soft Monique's tongue felt compared to a man's. She also couldn't believe how soft and full Monique's lips felt against hers. Jen tensed as she felt Monique's hands slide lower on her body.
This was not what she had expected when she followed Monique into the bathroom. She had never desired another woman, but if she was being truthful, she would have to admit she sometimes wondered what it would be like. Then, before Jen could object further, Monique slid one of her soft hands inside her panties.
Monique's technique so differed from a man's. She knew exactly what to touch, when to touch it, and how much pressure to use. It was almost like she was fingering herself. Within moments, Jen came on Monique's hand, her urgent moans quieted by Monique's mouth over hers, her body arching backwards into Monique's welcoming body, her toes curling in her high heels.
"That was -- that was amazing," Jen gasped, as Monique finally allowed her to pull away.
Monique gave Jen a few moments to catch her breath, and then she pressed her body against Jen's. "Is it my turn now?" Monique asked as she pulled up her skirt and pressed Jen's hand against her pussy. Monique wasn't wearing any panties.
Jen pulled back. "I -- I don't know ..." she stammered.
Monique smiled, and brushed her hand against Jen's cheek. "That's okay, honey, I know this is all new for you. I won't rush you."
Trying to hide her disappointment, Monique reached into her purse and pulled out lip gloss. "Here, let me fix your make up." Feeling awkward but not knowing what else to do, Jen stood still as Monique gently applied the gloss until Jen's lips were a wet glossy luster.
"There, now you're perfect again," Monique said. She paused, her eyes locked on Jen's face. She affectionately brushed one of Jen's blonde locks off her face. "You're so darn pretty," she said with a crooked smile.
Jen blushed, not knowing what to say. So much had just happened. She turned to leave the bathroom. Almost impulsively, Monique grabbed her arm and brought her face close to Jen's. "I know you like really big cocks," Monique breathed into Jen's ear, causing the young blonde to shudder. "But you haven't lived until you've felt a woman's tongue against your clit."
The images ran through my head, of Jen straddling Victor and her long blonde hair swaying across her shoulders as she moved up and down on his cock. I couldn't get over how sexy Jen looked as she rode him, nude except for a garter belt, black stockings, and ankle strap high heels. Her choice of lingerie pained me as much as seeing them fuck. For years I had been after my wife to wear thigh highs and stiletto heels, but she rarely did. But she wore them for Victor.
Finally the door opened, and Victor left. I waited a few minutes more, and then went up to our apartment.
"Hi," I said tentatively, seeing Jen in bed. She looked freshly showered, and it looked like she had changed the sheets. I took off my clothes and moved to join her under the covers, but she stopped me.
"Could you take a shower first?" she gently asked, and I felt like an idiot. I had forgotten all about being with Monique that night. The sight of Jen with Victor had driven thoughts of Monique from my mind.
"Sure, sure," I said quickly, and I quickly hurried to the shower. I emerged a few minutes later, still toweling my hair. Jen smiled and pulled back the covers, inviting me to join her.
"Did you have fun?" I asked.
"Yeah, it was okay."
"Just okay?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. For some reason, I had an urgent need to find out how Jen felt about Victor. Maybe I hoped she had faked those moans and orgasms, that she didn't enjoy fucking him as much as it seemed. Or maybe the masochistic part of me wanted to hear my wife admit how much she adored getting pounded by the well-hung black man. "Monique told me Victor was really good in bed."
Jen hesitated, and looked away from me. "He is good, I guess," she said after a few moments.
"Monique said Victor's hung like a horse." I laughed, trying to sound like I didn't care. "So is it true, bigger is better?"
"I don't know. It's different." Jen frowned, and her tone became defensive, almost angry. "Why do you care?"
"Why do I care? Honey, you're my wife. We might be experimenting with swinging, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you, and how you're getting along with Victor. I mean, I know his penis is bigger than mine. I'm just wondering if that makes a difference, if it feels better."
Jen's anger melted away. "Honey, he's not better than you," she said in a soft voice. She rubbed my arm affectionately. "It's just different, that's all."
Jen paused. "Is it better with Monique?" she asked hesitantly, concern in her face. "She's so beautiful."
I took my wife into my arms. "Honey, I'll admit, it's exciting to be with someone new. It's probably the same way for you, to be with Victor. But there's no one prettier than you."
Jen beamed. "You liar," she said playfully, punching me. "Monique's a model. She was in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue -- twice! -- and Playboy wanted her to be Miss January or July or something, but by then she had met Victor, and he won't let her."
"What? I knew about the SI swimsuit issue, but not Playboy."
Jen punched me again, harder this time. "You jerk!"
I laughed and took her again into my arms. "Honey, I don't care what Monique was in, or almost in. You're way prettier than her, and sexier too." Feeling a little surprised, I realized I meant it. Yes, Monique was beautiful and alluring. But Jen had everything that Monique had, and more. Jen's face was prettier than Monique's, although this was probably debatable and depended on whether you liked blondes better than brunettes. Her body was just as firm, and her ass and legs were way better than Monique's. Monique had bigger breasts, but Jen's were full and perfectly shaped, and there were lots of guys (including me) who preferred girls with tiny tits.
Jen had better raw material than Monique. If Jen tried, she could blow Monique away in looks and sexiness. I wondered if Victor knew that. Maybe he saw beyond Jen's scant use of makeup and near-shapeless clothing, and recognized her potential to be something really special.
The thought upset me. It took Jen fucking another man for me to fully appreciate her beauty and sexiness. I got on top of Jen, intent on correcting my mistake.
"Honey, you're so pretty, much sexier than Monique," I said as I pushed my hard cock into her pussy. She welcomed me, opening her legs and wrapping her arms around me. But despite my renewed passion for my wife, I started softening. Jen's pussy wasn't as tight as usual, which wasn't a surprise since she had just fucked Victor who knows how many times. There wasn't enough friction to keep me hard, and Jen also didn't seem to be enjoying it much.
Concern spread through me, as I wondered if I'd ever get my wife's tight pussy back. I thought again at how Victor's enormous cock stretched Jen's pussy so. Would her pussy ever return to normal, the way it used to be, where it fit my penis like a glove?
I was pleasantly surprised to realize I was hard again. I could still barely feel the walls of Jen's pussy. What happened to get me excited? Suddenly, I realized the more I thought about Victor fucking Jen, the harder I got.
A mixture of jealousy and arousal flooded over me. I didn't want to think about Jen getting banged by Victor with his massive black cock. But the more I thought about it, the more aroused I became. I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to playback in my head. I remembered how Jen had wrapped her stocking-clad legs around Victor, and how she dug her stiletto heels into the back of his thighs to urge him deeper inside her. Within moments I came, my sperm joining Victor's that he had deposited in Jen earlier that evening.
*************************
I'm not one of those guys who fantasize about his wife getting fucked by other men. Wife watching and cuckold fantasies had never turned me on before. But over the next week I couldn't get the images of Jen and Victor out of my mind. I had a constant hard-on, and I even masturbated a few times in the bath room at work.
It wasn't just the images, it was also what they had said.
"You like my big fat cock? Do you? Do you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I like it, it feels so good."
"Do I fuck you better than your husband? Am I better?"
"Ohhhh godddd. Better ... better ... and so much bigger!"
The memories hurt, and left me jealous and insecure. But somehow, these feelings intensified my arousal.
They frightened me, too. I had ventured into this wife swapping lifestyle so I could bed Monique. Now, though, my interest was shifting from Monique to Victor and Jen. The thought of them together got me hard. But did I want to risk letting Victor have Jen again? What if she got addicted to his cock? Was I somehow a closet gay, getting off on seeing huge black cocks fucking petite blonde pussy? All these thoughts were disturbing and upset me. Yet, whenever I thought about it -- thought about Victor fucking my wife -- I got hard and masturbated to a ferocious orgasm.
"Victor called me today," I said a few days later. I had considered not saying anything, but knew Jen would eventually find out. "He wanted to know if we planned to be at the club this weekend."
"What did you say?"
"I said I'd get back to him. Do you want to go?"
Jen hesitated. It seemed like she was picking her words carefully. "I guess we have to," she finally said. "Don't you need to network with these people for your job?"
"Yeah, but I've been thinking ... maybe the club isn't the best thing for us. This thing we've been doing with Victor and Monique. Maybe we should stop. What do you think?"
"Well, I don't know," Jen replied noncommittally. "Monique invited me to lunch tomorrow. I'm sorry, she asked me today, and I forgot to tell you. Anyway, it might be a little awkward if we don't go to the club after she takes me to lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah, I guess." I searched Jen's face. Her tone was still neutral, but I sensed a little -- apprehension? Was she afraid I wouldn't agree to go to the club? Was she concerned I'd object to her sleeping with Victor again?
"Well, then, I guess we better go. I'll call Victor and let him know we'll be there."
"Okay, if you think that's best," Jen said, shrugging nonchalantly, acting like she didn't care either way. Yet, did her face show a little relief, maybe even a little excitement?
*************************
Jen fidgeted nervously as she waited for Monique to arrive. She dreaded lunch with Monique. It wasn't like she was going to lunch with a girl friend, or even a casual acquaintance. She had slept with Monique's husband! Was Monique planning on confronting her, telling her to stay away from Victor? God, why had she ever agreed to this lunch? But she couldn't really say no, and Monique had been so nice to her over the phone.
"Oh Jen, I'm so sorry for being late," Monique said a few minutes later. She hugged Jen and kissed her on the cheek. "Traffic was terrible. But I'm so happy to see you!"
Jen's apprehension diminished as they sipped wine and gossiped about people at the club. Soon they were giggling like school girls and acting like best friends.
Monique leaned back in her chair and her eyes drifted to below the table. "Jen, you really should wear shorter skirts," she admonished in a playful, motherly voice. "Your legs are so nice, you should show them off."
Jen giggled. "Oh my god, you sound like Victor." Then she realized what she said, and brought her hand to her mouth, horrified. "I'm sorry, that was so insensitive, I wasn't thinking --"
Monique smiled. "Jen, it's okay," she said reassuringly. "I don't mind you're sleeping with my husband. This is something we do, we have an open marriage. It's fun, exciting, to play with other people. Variety is the spice of life. The club is really a wonderful place for that."
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Everyone is really fit and good looking. Well, most people anyway. And many are open to having some harmless fun." Monique looked quizzically at Jen. "Have any other men approached you yet?"
Jen looked taken aback, shocked. "No!" she said quickly.
Monique laughed and squeezed Jen's hand affectionately. "It's okay, honey, let yourself have fun. I'm sure Michael wouldn't mind -- he seems to like swinging. In fact, Victor will probably mind more than Michael. My husband's really taken with you."
Jen was speechless. She hadn't considered being with other people. She was still trying to get use to the idea of her extramarital activities with Victor. "Well, no one's shown any interest," she said, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh Jen," Monique said, suddenly serious. "There's a lot of interest in you. A lot."
Jen blushed. Were people talking about her at the club, openly talking about her affair with Victor, wondering who would bed her next? She felt like a piece of meat, and practically shuddered at the thought.
Suddenly Jen felt Monique's hand on her thigh. "You believe me, don't you? You're so young and pretty, and you have such a cute body. Lots of people would like to get to know you better. And not just men."
Jen turned scarlet. "Um, well," she stammered, feeling Monique's caresses on her bare thigh.
Monique giggled at Jen's obvious discomfort, and pulled her hand away. "Don't worry, I won't **** you," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "But sometimes, Victor and I like to share a pretty girl. You'll think about it, won't you? I know you'll like it."
"Um, sure, I guess," Jen said, feeling more awkward than she had ever felt in her life.
Monique squeezed Jen's hand again. "Jen, you should listen to Victor, you really should. Wear shorter skirts. Your legs are so nice. Dress sexier at the club, and flirt more. You'll have so much fun teasing all the boys, you really will."
"Um, okay." Then Jen realized Monique hadn't mentioned Michael. "Do you hear people talking about Michael?"
"Oh, don't worry about Michael," Monique said almost dismissively. "I told you, the people in the club are fun. There'll be a lot of wives who'll sleep with Michael, so their husbands can sleep with you."
Jen slowly leaned back in her chair, feeling shocked. "Do you mean -- did Victor force you to sleep with Michael, so he could sleep with me?"
Monique looked shocked. "He didn't force me, of course not. I like Michael, he's sweet. I'm just saying, in a good marriage where both spouses are open minded and like to have fun, sometimes the wife will sleep with someone she might not otherwise, so her husband can sleep with the girl he wants. And sometimes it's the other way around."
"So ... you mean, you wouldn't have slept with Michael, if Victor hadn't wanted to sleep with me?"
Monique grimaced. "That makes it sound so bad. I like Michael, I really do. He's just not my type."
"Well, um ... what is your type?"
Monique smiled mischievously. "Honey, I think you know my type. And, from what Victor tells me, you like the same type. I mean, I'm not obsessed about size. I've enjoyed playing with lots of guys who aren't as big as Victor. I mean, hardly anyone's as big as my husband. But Michael -- he's really small, isn't he?"
"No he's not!"
"Oh, okay," Monique said, backing off quickly upon hearing the anger and indignation in Jen's voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just ... well, I had assumed that's why you and Michael were getting into swinging. He was letting you experience men with -- you know -- men who were better endowed."
"No, that's not why. We just thought ... I don't know ... I guess we thought it might be fun to experiment with other people for a while."
"Okay, well, that's understandable." Monique was quiet for a moment, and then her curiosity got the better of her. "So ... size doesn't make a difference to you?"
Jen crossed her arms defiantly. "It doesn't make a difference with most women," she said, remembering things she had read in magazines.
Monique seemed to read Jen's mind. "Women say that, I know, but -- well -- it didn't feel different being with Victor?"
"Well, of course it felt different!" Jen said without thinking, exasperated. "Your husband's as big as a horse!" Jen scowled at Monique, and then realized the outrageousness of what she had just said. The two girls looked into each other's eyes, and then broke out laughing, the tension between then immediately easing. They laughed so long their stomachs ached.
Tipsy from wine and still feeling silly from laughing so hard, Jen's curiosity got the better of her. "So, do you really think Michael's that small? I mean, compared to other men you've been with?"
Monique didn't answer. Instead, she squeezed Jen's hand and smiled caringly, a sympathetic look on her face.
*************************
Jen tightly clutched Michael's hand as they entered the club. She was wearing the lycra dress again, the one Victor had sent her a few weeks ago, just before she and Michael visited them at their mansion. The dress was so revealing she almost hadn't worn it then, and that was back when only Victor and Michael were going to see her in it. Now, lots of guys were going to see her in the dress, and butterflies flittered through her stomach as she nervously held onto her husband's arm.
Jen felt every male head turn as she walked by. She blushed, feeling like a piece of meat on display. Did they know about her affair with Victor? Jen remembered what Monique had said. "There's a lot of interest in you, a lot." Did these men think she was available? Were they hoping to sleep with her? Jen nervously glanced around. Many of the men were hungrily leering at her. She clutched Michael's arm even tighter.
"There you are, I've been looking for you two." Michael and Jen turned and saw a smiling Monique approaching. Jen was relieved to see her friend. Monique hugged Michael and kissed him hello on the cheek. Jen felt a twinge of jealousy, but she knew it was silly to feel that way given the situation. Then Monique linked her arm with Jen's. "Honey, come with me to the ladies room," she said cheerily.
"You look so good!" Monique said, eyeing Jen up and down after closing the bathroom door. "I wish my legs were as long and slim as yours, I'm so envious."
"Oh stop that, your legs are fantastic," Jen said, glancing down at Monique's legs. Monique wore a mini-dress that showed even more leg than Jen's, and her legs were encased in black hose, just like Jen. Even while returning the compliment, Jen knew that Monique was right, her legs were nicer. The realization made her feel good, but then she felt guilty and catty. "Anyway, your breasts are so much bigger than mine," Jen quickly added, the admission easing her guilt.
Monique beamed and gave Jen a hug. "Size isn't everything, honey," Monique said. Then both girls remembered their last conversation about penis size, and giggled. Even while laughing, Jen felt guilty, knowing part of the joke involved Michael's size. Monique sensed the sudden cloud over Jen's mood, and frowned. "Honey, you need to learn how to relax and have fun."
Jen shrugged, uncertain what Monique meant. "I wore this dress." While walking to the bathroom, the static cling of the lycra against her stockings caused her dress to hike up her legs. "It's so short, I'm afraid people will see my stocking tops," Jen said, tugging down her dress.
Monique laughed. "Honey, everyone already knows you're wearing stockings! The dress is so tight you can see the bumps of your garter belt."
Jen looked down and was horrified to see that Monique was right. How hadn't she noticed this before? "Oh my god, I can't go out like this," she said anxiously.
Monique squeezed Jen's arm reassuringly. "Honey, this is what I mean, you worry too much. Anyway, men like seeing garter bumps, you'll have them eating out of your hand. Just remember, whenever you wear a clingy dress like this, you're on display. Dresses like this don't hide much. Men will know you're wearing a bra, too. They'll be able to see your bra strap as easily as I can."
"Oh," Jen said, feeling foolish. She wasn't used to wearing tight, sexy clothes like this. "So ... are there different bras I should wear?"
Monique giggled. "No, silly. You shouldn't wear a bra at all."
"I can't do that," Jen said warily. "The material is so thin."
"Of course you can. I'm not wearing a bra, and neither are most of the girls out there tonight." Without asking for permission, Monique unzipped Jen's dress. In one quick motion, she unsnapped the back clasp of Jen's strapless bra, and pulled it away. Then Monique re-zipped Jen's dress. Both girls looked into the mirror. The clingy fabric of the lycra dress molded itself around Jen's small breasts. "You look lovely," Monique said admiringly, unable to take her eyes off Jen's perfectly shaped mounds. "Your breasts are so firm, you don't need a bra."
Jen looked doubtful. "But, the material's so thin --"
"'that you might be able to see your nipples, if you get excited?" Monique said, completing Jen's sentence. "Let's see."
Monique stepped back so she stood directly behind Jen. Monique was taller than Jen, so she easily looked into the mirror over Jen's shoulder. Before she could protest, Monique moved her hands to Jen's chest and cupped her friend's breasts. "You're so firm," Monique cooed as she fondled Jen's tits. She easily found Jen's nipples through the stretchy lycra material and rubbed them between her thumbs and fingers. "God, your nipples get so hard."
Jen didn't know what to do. Looking in the mirror, she watched as Monique fondled her. She couldn't help moaning as Monique rubbed her ultra sensitive nipples. She felt unsteady on her feet, and reached back to steady herself. In doing so she clutched Monique's thigh, and felt the garter belt strap through the fabric of the older woman's mini-dress. Jen reflexively pulled her hand away, but Monique grasped Jen's hand and brought it back to her thigh. "It's alright honey, I won't bite." Monique pulled up her skirt so Jen's hand was on her lacy stocking top. Then Monique covered Jen's hand with hers, and moved Jen's hand until it rested on her garter strap. Jen couldn't believe how soft Monique's skin felt, and without thinking began caressing her friend's thigh. "Oh yeah honey, that feels good," Monique breathed into Jen's ear.
Jen watched herself and Monique in the mirror, as if watching strangers in a movie. She continued to caress Monique's ******* thigh as Monique cupped and fondled her breasts. Then Monique lowered her hands, her eyes on Jen's bosom. "You're right," she said. "Your erect nipples do show through the dress. But don't worry. Men like that. And Victor prefers his girls to go braless."
Monique slid her hands down Jen's front, over her firm tummy, and then still downward. She grasped Jen's skirt and pulled it up, ******** her stocking tops, then garter straps, and finally her lacy black panties. "So pretty," Monique said as she eyed the camel toe formed in Jen's wet panties. Monique wrapped Jen's soft blonde hand in her hand and gently tugged, pulling Jen's head back. "You're so pretty," Monique said softly, gazing into Jen's face. Then Monique covered Jen's lips with hers.
Jen tried to pull away, but the taller woman held her tight. Monique snaked her tongue into Jen's mouth, and despite herself, Jen couldn't help noticing how soft Monique's tongue felt compared to a man's. She also couldn't believe how soft and full Monique's lips felt against hers. Jen tensed as she felt Monique's hands slide lower on her body.
This was not what she had expected when she followed Monique into the bathroom. She had never desired another woman, but if she was being truthful, she would have to admit she sometimes wondered what it would be like. Then, before Jen could object further, Monique slid one of her soft hands inside her panties.
Monique's technique so differed from a man's. She knew exactly what to touch, when to touch it, and how much pressure to use. It was almost like she was fingering herself. Within moments, Jen came on Monique's hand, her urgent moans quieted by Monique's mouth over hers, her body arching backwards into Monique's welcoming body, her toes curling in her high heels.
"That was -- that was amazing," Jen gasped, as Monique finally allowed her to pull away.
Monique gave Jen a few moments to catch her breath, and then she pressed her body against Jen's. "Is it my turn now?" Monique asked as she pulled up her skirt and pressed Jen's hand against her pussy. Monique wasn't wearing any panties.
Jen pulled back. "I -- I don't know ..." she stammered.
Monique smiled, and brushed her hand against Jen's cheek. "That's okay, honey, I know this is all new for you. I won't rush you."
Trying to hide her disappointment, Monique reached into her purse and pulled out lip gloss. "Here, let me fix your make up." Feeling awkward but not knowing what else to do, Jen stood still as Monique gently applied the gloss until Jen's lips were a wet glossy luster.
"There, now you're perfect again," Monique said. She paused, her eyes locked on Jen's face. She affectionately brushed one of Jen's blonde locks off her face. "You're so darn pretty," she said with a crooked smile.
Jen blushed, not knowing what to say. So much had just happened. She turned to leave the bathroom. Almost impulsively, Monique grabbed her arm and brought her face close to Jen's. "I know you like really big cocks," Monique breathed into Jen's ear, causing the young blonde to shudder. "But you haven't lived until you've felt a woman's tongue against your clit."
