A Night in the Beginning

I saw Sophie and knew Mike would agree to meet them. Sophie had pale skin, dyed black hair and tattoos. She looked like a suicide girl in training. On the swinger lifestyle site, their backdoor pass let me see her round, pert breasts which were as pale as the rest of her but with light brown/pink nipples. It's only now that I can appreciate how sexy she was and how willingly she would have been with me as well as my husband and hers. Memory of little silver barbells, cold to a hot tongue as hands awkwardly, half heartedly groped and caressed those brown pink nipples, a contrast to my rosie tiny buds. Her clit, too, was pierced. I think back on it fondly when I recall the most erotic comings together of our group. In particular, one drunken Jacuzzi tub romp where Rick fucked me from behind, water sloshing on the planks of the wooden bathroom floor while I fingered and licked and sucked that little clit ring, basically guessing at what might work best. He had such a nice fat cock and I missed it for a long while after our relationship ended. I'm sad to not remember the ache of wanting it to fill me up now, he was truly my perfect fit and my perfect lover. His mouth and hands drove me mad, strong and gentle. Willing to push my boundaries and give and give and take and take. He was a little bi, like me. It was a good fit.

One of my favorite "spank bank" memories was one of our first nights together. The house they lived in when we all first met was In the middle of no where. I didn't understand the quirky streak that ran through them that made that home perfect for them, small but quaint with room for their too many animals and a trampoline in the back. That was where Rick and I lay under the stars after a hastily eaten dinner with the four of us dumping hot sauce on our homemade fish tacos. We licked our fingers, sticky with lime juice as we drank Mexican beer and felt the summer day fade. Mike and Sophie got their bedroom, Rick and I got the living room but we headed outside. It was like we couldn't be contained.

There is a moment of doing something against the rules, even within a "sanctioned" relationship that adds to pleasure. It might just be for me. It made this night memorable. There was an aspect of anticipation that is its own pleasure. The denial because it's wrong. The giving in because if it feels so fucking good, how can it be wrong?

Time had passed after dinner and Sophie and Mike were sequestered in the bedroom. I could hear moans and giggles. Then, I was still jealous of the strong affection. Looking back, I realize it was insecurity that drove us outside. My insecurity at hearing another woman being pleased by my husband. I was affronted and I was turned on. I was watching a show and putting on a show and, in my own pleasure bubble, no one else mattered but the two in my little world.

It would be easier if I couldn't hear them. It was cooler, as we took ourselves out into the clear night. I don't remember what I wore but it was either very little or something with easy access because we had been rolling around for long enough to make me gushing wet and his fingers were soon coated. We found ourselves wrapped in blankets on the trampoline, it was bouncing slowly with our motions. Rick was dark, his hair and later the beard I loved so much, but his eyes were so light blue almost gray. His face was becoming hard to discern in the dying light and I was just tipsy enough that the world was a twilight blur. Where the air hit my exposed skin it rippled with goosebumps but at our core, his cock was hard and hot. He was uncut, my first and so far my last. I wonder sometimes if that made for a more pleasurable experience or if it was his size or just how he knew to use it until I sobbed.

At that point, in our little foursome, we were still supposed to be using condoms but his skin on mine was delicious and the temptation was like an aphrodisiac. I pressed my shaved pussy lips against him and slid, tormenting the both of us.

"We can't" I said. Rick just raised an eyebrow at me.

"Your rules. Mike's rules. Not our rule." It was as good as permission.

I slid up, using his cock to spread moisture until my clit was throbbing then poised his head at my lips. I used my hands to stroke and part my lips. Pressing forward, I parted my pussy lips and watched his face contort with pleasure. Mike and I joked once about the faces Rick made in pleasure being funny and unsexy. Somehow, when a thick cock is about to fill you to the brim, the facial expressions stop to matter. My breasts must've been at least partially uncovered, because I remember my nipples being small and taut with chill and excitement. He rubbed them, pulling tight. I hissed a breath through my teeth.

"Perfect." He said. "I love your tits. They're perfect."

"They're small" I countered.

"They're small and they're perfect." He said, always. I sometimes wondered if he didn't mind my small tits because he was bi. It didn't matter that he was sexually attracted to both genders, he know how to make my gender feel amazing. With both hands, he squeezed them until it was almost painful. Pain and pleasure swirled, my breasts ached. I longed for more of both.

He thrust his hips up and his cock filled me. It was inches only but he was so wide that I felt stretched even before receiving his full length. Those early days, before I was more used to accommodating him, every time was pain and pleasure. I had to work down his cock slowly, even as wet as I was.

I inched up and pressed down with effort, willing my pussy to take on his full thickness and length. He gasped as I took him all in, my clit rubbing against his lower abdomen. I waited, feeling full but could not stop the inevitable need for more. More friction, more movement, more cock in and out.

So I rode him for an impossibly long time. Thanks, modern science, for allowing most anxiety meds the side effect of anorgasmia. He licked his thumb, I remember, I some point, and started to rub my clit. My memory becomes fuzzy when I consider how often I must've come while riding him. The trampoline bounced, squeaking but I didn't hear it but for the mutters and moans of pleasure.

When he came inside of me, it was for the first time. I felt the spasm and we threw ourselves together, he grasping my ass to hold me in place as his cock let loose its pent up lust. I remember sliding my hands to his face to pull him in to a long kiss, our tongues meeting in time with the thrusts of our hips. He was the best kisser and could make me weak with need.

I forgot that night awhile into the relationship but think of it often now, when looking for the thrill of anticipation.