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My husband and I found another couple on a swinger’s site that appeared to have it all: they were gorgeous, experienced and smart.

Dave wrote that he and his wife had a swing in their bedroom and a whip made of feathers and assorted other toys from glass dildos to hot wax. They had been swapping partners since their college days, 20 years ago, which intrigued us. Brian and I had been swinging less than a year.

Partner swapping had been my husband’s idea. He explained it as another tool in our arsenal to keep our libido alive. We had few toys. We joked that we’d learn from the experts.

What I especially liked, his proposal for a hot yoga session:

“I want to try the naughty dog with you… plus we could make up all these new poses and holds for fucking and non-fucking… develop our core fucking muscles… I’d love to do that.”

From Jenny’s emails, it appeared she found Brian amusing, so it seemed out of the blue when she sent the following message:

“Swinging rarely gives me pleasure anymore, and I want to forestall another disappointment. I’m opting out.”

On our end, it was a go.

Jenny was everything Brian dreamt of—voluptuous and meaty. I was a toothpick.

But Dave didn’t end our correspondence in compliance with his wife’s wishes. He switched to another email address and intimated that he might be able to persuade her to capitulate, but we had to plan in secret. That put a smile on my face, it seemed so naughty. I agreed to meet Dave by myself to gauge the attraction. If it was not happening, why bring us together?

Finding a good match between four people is much more complicated, it’s like building a sports team. Everyone has to work well together.

The hunt had been exhausting, filled with letdowns. Often it was a personality thing. Sometimes they had misrepresented themselves and were nothing like their pictures, either the pictures were out of date or they posted another couple’s pictures and said it represented their feelings. Sometimes the realization came when we were in bed.

My husband wasn’t interested in a threesome with me and another man, and yet I continued titillating Dave, liking the flirtation, thinking we could convince his wife to give Brian a chance. Then I began to wonder about Brian. Was there something I had overlooked that turned her off?

“Was it his pictures or email?” I asked in a text.

“The night she wrote that we had a disastrous meeting with another couple,” Dave wrote back.

I understood Jenny’s decision. There’s nothing worse in the swinger’s world than having sex with someone you consider inferior to your husband. It’s not just about looks, or the size of the man’s equipment, but about his ability and willingness to do everything possible to please his sexual partner, to ensure that she’s facilitated in the best possible way. Few who come to the party know or care to learn how to please a woman, and many seem to lack a basic understanding of what constitutes foreplay. Dave struck me as different.

Dave promised he would work on convincing his wife. Meanwhile he said we needed to meet, so he told Jenny that he couldn’t handle screwing the same woman for the rest of his life. If she was done with swinging, she would have to allow him to screw someone new at least once a week. Jenny stipulated that the woman had to be sexually unfulfilled and happily married. That was me. My marriage was fine outside of the bedroom.

Jenny said yes.

When he entered the bar I was struck by his youth. He looked like he was in college even though he claimed to be 40. I was 45. I wondered if he had lied to me about his age, but I was attracted to him and let it go. We sat at the bar and drank Jägermeister, his favorite drink. I felt a tremendous amount of lust, and I could see that he did, too. We knew without either one of us saying that we were going to have sex that night.

His hand on my thigh felt like fire.

At the house, he allowed me a few sips of a drink before flinging me on the kitchen counter. We kissed for hours, and the way he plied my breasts sent me into orbit. After that deliciousness we went from room to room.

The next morning he texted, asking if we could spend the afternoon together.

He did everything slowly, voluptuously, with an exquisite sense of timing, waking me in ways I had never experienced. No man had lasted as long, or was as sensitive to the ebb and flow of my animal self. I had more orgasms than I knew I was capable of having, and I squirted for the first time in my life, and not just once, but multiple times. I strove to please him in the same way he pleased me, going out of my customary zone of no swallowing.

We met every day that week for an hour or two after work. He told me at the end of that week that it was highly unlikely that Jenny would join us, he and I got along too well. And from what I told him about Brian, he had a feeling that Jenny would find him wanting. I thought it better to keep our trysts secret from my husband. I hoped someday she would change her mind. I would have liked to have Brian share this, and maybe learn from it. But then I realized that likely he would be jealous when he saw me with Dave. He still doesn’t know that I spent months fucking this insanely gifted man.

I’ve taught Brian a few of Dave’s moves, so now we can enjoy the same. I love bouncing from one man to the other, it keeps my juices flowing.

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