8) Featuring a Heroic Act
As instructed by Ruth, I arrived at my corner for pickup at midday on Thursday. And - as before she opened the passenger door from the inside, after careening up next to the curb.
Seeing my brown bag, she smiled skeptically.
"I think I told you not to bring anything."
I climbed nervously into the front seat.
"I think I told you that the way you drive scares the shit out of me."
Ignoring that remark, she threw the thing into reverse - then back into "drive" - and, once again, pulled a wild kind of U-turn: heading down the hill as though she had the cops on her tail.
I had some items in my brown bag besides lunch, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to use them.
"I know that you said you would be - but you're better prepared this time, right? Latex? Lube?"
She nodded briskly.
"A checklist at home. Everything shipshape."
The supermarket was busier than the last time we had visited, but the row of spaces under the trees was still very remote from anywhere else people might want to park.
After the transmission was set to "park" our transition to sex was almost wordless: as though we were making a lasagna that we had made many times before. I didn't even know if she was aroused - but, on my side, I could definitely feel some heat building as I watched her go from business casual to just a pair of pure white nylons, whose decorated tops gripped the middle of her thighs.
She caught me glancing at the stockings as she closed the blinds covering the big passenger windows.
"I know. A little change of pace. Pantyhose are standard for the office, but I'm not going to try to take them off - and put them back on in here. Black is the usual porn standard, but then I thought 'Why not white?'"
"Your body's in amazing shape. Do you run?"
"A little. A little yoga. But you can burn a lot of calories with the right kind of fucking. Before Kevin lost his mojo, we were part of a club that used to move from house to house on weekends. Those were the days. What a workout. Muscles I didn't even know I had. Still hurts to think about them, I miss them so much."
I slipped out of my shorts to display a cock that was already gravity defying. Ruth gestured toward one of the captain's chairs.
But I had questions.
"My husband, of course."
"I don't imagine you've told him about our van adventures."
"Of course I have."
With a placid look of appreciation, she knelt down in front of me, and - by gently stroking the shaft of my penis - brought my erection to the kind of stiffness that actually hurt.
"That's just what I was talking about. Our swingers' club. At one time, or another, I've had 2 cocks in my ass. Two in my mouth. Two in my twat. One Saturday - it was so great, I was about halfway loaded - I got 4 guys going. I timed it just right, and they all hosed me within seconds of each other. There was a round of applause when it was all done, with my face still dripping. Like I said: those were the days."
She slipped her mouth over my dick, and took it all in - right up to the sack - her tongue making contact with all the nerve endings, all along its length.
I felt it cool off when she lifted her head again.
"How's that feel?"
"You basically have no idea."
She inhaled it again.
"But I have a question. Your husband's mojo?"
Her head came back up.
"All gone. He's as limp as a dish rag. So...do you want to talk about him, or do you want me to keep going with what I'm doing now?"
Without responding, I tentatively put my hands on top of her head - and she went down on me for several minutes. But, after a while, it became clear that the main event was going to be something else entirely.
My cock went cool again before I felt the latex being fitted. Then she took my hand, and pulled me down on the blue shag carpet with her.
"Playtime's over. Now let's get serious."
"And no surprises in there. Right?"
She gave me a very serious look.
"You need to remember that I have done this A LOT. And when I say don't worry: don't worry. If I thought there was anything nasty waiting for you up there, I would tell you. And then you could take your chances. Or not."
"And what if I said 'not'?"
"Wouldn't make any difference, today, because there's nothing nasty up there right now."
By now she was on all fours - with me behind her - and, as before, I could hear a pitch of anticipation in her voice.
"Let's try it with the finger."
Which I did...and found her sealed up tight.
"OK. Here's what you're going to have to do. With your tongue-"
I didn't let her get any farther than that.
"With my what?"
"With your tongue."
"What would I be doing back here with my tongue?"
"Just take your tongue - and move it around the outside of the hole."
"Stop playing games back there! We should be fucking now! I should be screaming like you're murdering me!"
"Ruth, I'm sorry, this is too much-"
"Millions of other people are doing it, right now! Millions of other people are having sex while I'm debating with you! Just get with it. I'm all scrubbed up. It'll be fine!"
"End of discussion, mister! Let's go!"
They say it was a brave man who first ate an oyster, and I joined that pantheon of heroes by lowering my head to her anus and using the tip of my tongue to cautiously circle it: feeling the tiny hairs in that area, and getting the re-assuring tastes of lubricant, and soap. She really had scrubbed it, not too long before.
I tried to put petty thoughts of hygiene out of my mind. And I was getting encouragement from the sounds that she was making.
"Oh yeah! Oh yeah! That's right. That's right! Little bit more. It's loosening up. Make sure you're really lubed up. It'll be easier to get in. And hurry! I should have come twice by this time."
A deep groan floated through the van as I got past the sphincter, and pushed into what I called the Inferno - because it was so much warmer than any pussy I had ever known.
"Perfect...perfect...now, just go easy, and then I want you to hammer it when I say so."
Her voice already seemed far away, although I was trying hard to pay attention.
"My pussy feels wet. Can you check it?"
I ran my fingers over the area.
"You're moist for sure."
"Let me know if I need to change the angle, but - after awhile - I want you to pull out of my ass, and go right into my pussy. Then go the other way. Then let me know when you're about to finish."
"Are you sure that's going to be safe? That back and forth?"
"Why is everything a big debate with you today? Do as I say! Just do it!"
She did change the angle of her ass: pushing it up a little higher: presenting me with the familiar double keyhole effect.
I had to concentrate. In, and out, of one.
Then, in, and out, of the other one.
Then back again.
Smooth and rhythmic. I was sure that was important.
"That's right...that's right...smooth...don't push hard...just smooth. Back and forth. Just like that...just like that."
This kind of complicated industrial motion wasn't doing much for me. But Ruth was groaning with such dedication that she finally stopped talking altogether: greeting each thrust of my penis into her lubricated gates with a sincere gasp.
We were both breathing hard - like marathon runners at mid-race - but, finally, she collected enough breath to gasp an instruction.
"Stay in my ass!"
I would say that I was quite skillful in seamlessly moving to the upper portal. But, I was no sooner up there, than I could see her elegantly manicured nails fingering her pussy, and her rate of breathing started to rise even further.
"Hard and fast! Do it!"
"In your pussy?"
"Where you are! Do it!"
I picked up the pace, and - out of nowhere - she climaxed like someone being hit by lightning: so that I had to hold her waist to control the spasms a little.
I slowed down the pace as she caught her breath and made up for the time she had lost not swearing.
"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Once back in the boilerroom of her rectum, the insistent circle of her spincter was encouraging me to finish big.
And, cnce again, it seemed like her voice was coming to me across a great distance.
"It feels like you're getting harder. Are you ready to finish?"
"Coming right up."
Now I got to see another facet of Ruth's skills. She disconnected from me, and - a split second later - she had turned around, pulled off the latex, and had my aching cock resting at the back of her throat.
I sat back on my heels to improve the angle, and she slipped an arm around my torso so I could feel the suction at just the right level - with just the right friction - and soon I felt reality bend around me as the gate opened and everything came with a rush.
I remembered to let her know that the chapter was coming to a close.
"Right now...right now...right now."
She formed her lips around the shaft and absorbed the surges in complete silence, although I couldn't tell whether she was swallowing, or not.
After 4 or 5 excruciating contractions, she lifted her head - and half-opened her mouth - so I could see the pearlescent contents before she gulped it down like pudding.
With a satisfied smile.
"Sure. Would you like to taste it?"
She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into an electric French kiss.
Our first kiss: but hardly affectionate, or tender. She wanted to make her mark on me. Wanted to remind me of how ruthless she could be in her pursuit of raw animal sensation: child free - consequence free - guilt free - and completely free of charge (as long as I kept my mouth permanently shut).
Of course, I wish I had kept my mouth permanently shut when she forcibly kissed me: because I ended up with a ropey, salty kind of goo in my mouth.
Ruth smiled again.
"Now we both have a little bit of you. That brings us together. I've tasted you. You've been in my special places. You can't make any move against me without moving against yourself."
In the cooler she had brought was a clean, wet cloth which she used to clean everything we had used during the session. She seemed to get extra satisfaction from polishing my genitals.
"Have to keep these spic and span for Robin tomorrow. If you're sure you're going to be ready for her."
"We'll be fine."
"She's wilder than she looks. Just a fair warning. And she's smart, too. CPA. Good head for numbers. Play your cards right, she might do your taxes. Hungry?"
There was a bunch of food in the cooler. Tuna sandwiches with hard-boiled egg - a couple of different kinds of salad - some chips - and drinks resting on ice. I was starving, without even being aware of it, and I was happy to let her do most of the talking.
"Which of these things we've been doing are you doing at home?"
I laughed at that idea.
Ruth picked at this, and picked at that, without really eating anything. I was beginning to see how she kept her trim figure.
"That's the big advantage of swinging. Aside from meeting people and making new friends. Somebody will be lying next to you, and they'll ask 'Have you done such-and-such?' And it turns out that they know all about it. That's how I found out about licking an asshole. Not sure I would have thought of it, myself."
"Well - it didn't turn out so bad."
"I told you it wouldn't. How many people are at these parties?"
"We had 60, once, during the summertime. 40 is a more typical number. 30, if it's a weekend where people might be taking their kids somewhere."
"I've never heard of any of this."
"That's because they're a secret. Do you feel like coming along some time?"
"You mean - with you?"
"Right. Kevin isn't able to do it, anymore, and it's limited to couples. For obvious reasons."
"What obvious reasons?"
"It's not a singles bar. It's not about finding a new partner for tonight. It's about finding a new partner for a few minutes, and then going home with your permanent partner and trying out all the new stuff you learned. Swinging parties don't like freelancers. Freelance people disrupt the whole vibe of couples being with couples."
"I honestly don't think my wife would be interested."
"I doubt we'd be interested in her, either. You'd be coming with me."
"In a group where everyone knows I'm not your husband?"
"As long as you're there with a partner, nobody cares who you're married to. Just as long as you're there with a partner."
"I'll give it some thought."
"They'd be lining up to suck your special equipment, there, so I'm not sure what there might be to think about."
"Just a different world. I wouldn't know if I'm ready for it."
"The only way to know is to try. So - speaking of trying - let's try this...."
Like a sculptor working with clay, she transformed my lunchtime limpness into a form more firm, and tight, before stretching out on the floor of the van: lying on her right side.
She motioned to me.
"Lay down behind me, and come in."
"Back door, of course. That's where it feels good."
The opening was already loosened up, so I slid right in: accompanied with a sharp intake of breath from my partner.
"Yes. Just like that."
My left hand was free, so I reached over her shoulder and cradled one of her breasts. In response, she matter of factly removed my hand from her nipple, and put half a sandwich in my hand.
"You need to keep up your strength."
I started a slow stroke, but she put an end to that, as well.
"We've got some time, so just let it rest there."
"Not do anything?"
"Right. Do you need anything to drink?"
"Not right now."
"It's nice, though, isn't it? Feels good in there."
"It's very warm."
"Other people have said that."
"And there's absolutely no way that I can hold your breast?"
"Go ahead, if you feel you have to. I always thought I would have them done when I had the money."
"Really? They're a perfect match. They fit the hand very nicely. And they fit your body. Any bigger, you'd look top heavy. And you'd always have those scars from the surgery."
"How would you know about something like that?"
"I've got some porn around. You can see the scars when the photographer is shooting from below."
"Scars, or not. Boys like the big ones. There's no debate about that."
"I don't believe it. You've got inspirational tits. I'm still hard as a rock in there."
"Boys like boobs. Boys like butts, as well. Anyway, all good things must come to an end. I'm going to roll up on my knees, so you can get a better range of motion. Finish in my pussy, if you want to."
"I should be fine higher up."
With some extra instruction, and coordination, we rotated up to doggie-style, and I stroked my way to another intense finish: filling up another latex sleeve as we moaned and gasped and sweated.
With everything all over, we cleaned up and got dressed, without saying that much, and she had me back to my cubicle only about 10 minutes late.
In the spirit of feminine cooperation, Miriam adjusted my time so I wouldn't come to the attention of HR.
Later, as was my routine, I picked up my bus at the usual stop and went home to a quiet dinner with my family. Although she really didn't have that much of an interest, my wife politely asked how work had gone.
Anyone would agree that - at that very early stage in my work relationships - there would have been no better time to blurt out everything: confess everything, come clean, and purge myself of all the unbelievable secrets.
It was a tempting prospect.
But I could still feel Ruth's soft, all-natural breasts in my hands. And I had the promise of a brand new sex partner the very next day.
After thinking about it for just a few seconds, I crossed my personal Rubicon. If I was going to get caught, then someone would have to catch me. I would try to limit my mistakes - and I wouldn't confess to anything. I would have to be flushed out of the bushes, and cornered, before I would betray the women who I believed were depending on me.
I looked around at my little family...and looked my wife right in the eye.
"Nothing special. Nothing special happened today."
Robin, from Accounting, had to cancel her appointment for the next day - Friday - so, at least on that occasion, I was unable to confirm that my stamina would be equal to what my little harem wanted from me.
I said as much to Kriss, as we stood next to the parking lot retaining wall during our morning break. She was all in white, with just a single red stone suspended on a chain not far below her neck. Regal and unreachable, I thought she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
"I was worried that I wasn't going to have enough juice to keep everybody happy."
"Well you're making up for lost time. All the fucks you've missed in your life."
I confronted her (a little).
"We're always talking about me. What about you? How often are you in the bedroom? What do you like to do? You've been married something like 3 years. You must have some patterns established. Are you a champion of the back door? Do you like to take it in your ass?"
"Don't drag me into this. I'm just the messenger for the group. I'm not part of their lifestyle."
"It's unfair, isn't it. You always get a pass on this stuff. You hear everything. You know everything. You're always looking at us. We're never looking at you."
"Certain people know me. And they trust me. But there's just nothing more about me that you need to know. You should just concentrate on what you have ahead of you. Ruth and Miriam don't have husbands that can service them, and they won't be missing many sessions: since they want to make up for lost time, the same as you. Robin is going to be married in a couple of months: but I get the impression that her husband is pretty medieval - and who knows what he'll want to do. She may find herself stuck with missionary 3 times a week, with a side of broken noses if she talks back."
"That might be hard for her. Ruth says she has kind of a wild streak."
Kriss nodded, shooting smoke out of her nose again.
"Right. A wild streak. You'll find out all about that."
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT
8) Featuring a Heroic Act