Shared Pleasures

My partner and I have enjoyed many years together, and indulged ourselves in several pleasurable pursuits along the way. One of these was swinging, and we thoroughly enjoyed meeting different people and conversing with them in ways you would never do with other friends. We were never hardened swingers but we enjoyed a few European trips to clubs like the famous Fun4Two and several private parties; even held our own. We are both very sexual people, enjoyed a more than healthy sex life but both realised we were not getting any younger and we wanted to spread our wings a little while we still could. Who knows what the future will bring. Haven't we all known people who plan well in to the future only to die suddenly with their hopes and desires unfulfilled. It happened once too often to us and it gave us a jolt.

We made the decision to sell up and spend our time travelling. As this is meant to be a sexy and erotic tale then I will refrain from writing a travelogue. Suffice to say we enjoyed meeting a range of different couples along the way. Isn't the internet marvellous. Not that we made it a prime focus; most times it just happened that we used a web site chat room to keep in touch with our 'internet friends'. People then asked us if we would like to meet up in cities we were intending to visit. It is rude to say no you know. And you can enjoy their local knowledge and learn about their culture as well as you can enjoy their bodies. It's not all about sex.

After a couple of years on the move we took time out on a small tropical island. Life was good. It was cheap, the weather was idyllic, and we were living with a mix of races from around the world whose common language was English, albeit often extremely difficult to comprehend. They were also many years younger than us, either just finished University or taking a gap year out.

It is amazing that in these days of free and easy sex, and a freedom in discussing sex openly, the young still think they are the only ones to enjoy sex, and it must all stop at age 40! And yet we discovered that in reality they would have been shocked beyond words had we openly admitted we were swingers. To the point we would have been ostracised. We joined in the banter, and as an older couple we could say things considered outrageously naughty by our young friends. We both flirted like mad. Surrounded by young, tanned and fit bodies all day, who could resist. Our age worked to our advantage. Certainly we endured the jokes about being the oldest swingers in town. Little did they really know. We were actually enjoying more sex than they were. And not subject to the petty jealousies either. It was interesting to see how the young people related to each other. Quite educational.

Before you imagine a couple of frail elderly pensioners bopping the night away I shall describe us. We are both mid to late forties. Ok. I am 48, and my wife is 45. I refer to her as my wife as I consider her to be. We just never found the time, or the inclination to make it official. She is 5' 5" tall, blonde at one end, manicured and polished at the other. Work it out. I would love to say she has the figure of a 20 year old, but I hate to lie. I am surrounded by twenty somethings, and I can tell you, they are different. I regularly get to hug them, dance with them, cuddle them. They feel different. Very nice too.

My wife still has her curves, but she is softer, a little more rounded in the stomach area. Having children does that to a woman I am told. So what is the excuse for my stomach, because I haven't had kids. Her breasts are still pert, and her nipples, which are something special, still point, well if not to the sky, then certainly to the horizon. Large enough to droop slightly, firm enough that she can still get away not wearing a bra.

Her legs have always been her pride. On the long side and lean from years of exercise they look great in a short denim skirt. Over the last few years I have encouraged her to wear higher heels, especially at swinger meets, and her confidence has grown to the point she now adores the attention her legs attract.

She has put a few pounds on around her bum. As a girl she was tight arsed and leggy. So she tells me, and I have seen a few schoolgirl photos of her. Missed all her best years I tell her, usually as her hand is flying through the air to slap me.

What hasn't changed through all those years is her smile. It would light a moonless night. Which comes in useful if you drop your keys on the beach late at night. Lame, but worth a smile. She is an attractive woman, with a great friendly personality, warm and loving, and a good friend to those close to her. She has lots of other qualities. Enough that I know I am a very lucky man to have her on my arm, and in my heart.

So there you have it. An attractive 45 year old blonde, medium height, neither too fat nor too slim, average breasts, nice legs, the odd wrinkle, an arse that fills a pair of jeans without straining the stitching, and a killer smile. Very nice package. Me? I am more like a battered old suitcase. Much loved but not much to look at. I have great eyes though. So I've been told. Big and blue, with very long lashes. The envy of many women. Pity the rest of the face doesn't match up. I'm 5' 11" and on the big side. I have been an avid athlete all my life. But you all know what happens when an athlete retires. Fortunately the extra pounds are firm and solid rather than wobbly fat. But there is too much of them. I am trying to do something about it, aren't we all. But the temptations, ah, the temptations. Fortunately, to compensate for my lack of film star looks the good Lord saw fit to provision me with a very nice cock. It is not a monster by any means. None of this, you could stand a dozen canaries on it. More like eight or nine, that is if number nine stood on one leg.... and had good balance. It is thick though. About as thick as the tube in the middle of a toilet paper roll. Am I proud of it? Do I sound proud of it? Suffice to say I am never jealous when another man drops his trousers. Those that are bigger are too big according to my wife, and she complains now that she only just gets her mouth around it, so what would I need thicker for. But who the heck cares about my looks in this story.

My wife Wendy, (did you think I had forgotten?) is a little submissive. More of a happy to go with the flow, than down on her knees waiting for instructions. She is also a very horny woman who is never far away from being ready for sex. It doesn't take much to make her moist, nor much to make her orgasm either. She'll cum until she is so tired she just needs sleep. We were enjoying a very late night, drunken fucking when after several orgasms she fell asleep as I was inside her. When you have a satisfying sex life an event like this just makes you smile. As I gently removed my cock, she grabbed my hips, pulled me to her crying 'Don't stop fucking me'. She slept. I exited. She grabbed. She swore. She came. She slept. I exited stage centre. This cycle repeated itself several times until I had to wake her up properly and explain that she really needed sleep. Next day we laughed, and it was my turn to orgasm.

Have you sufficient information now to build up a decent picture of life in our household. Good. On with our naughty adventure. It involves a wonderful guy who became an extremely good friend. He stayed on the island for a couple of years and was probably the most successful cocksman I have ever known. If he carved notches on a bedpost it would have looked like an exquisite carving found in the chambers of Louis IX. He was addicted to the chase as much as the capture. He was a dedicated swordsmen. And happy to tell you all the intimate details. The only time I saw him fazed was when a young couple, on their honeymoon would you believe, invited him to join them in a threesome. That scenario threw him off kilter strangely enough. He had shared a bed with five Cambodian hookers. They helped him recover from an illness, and made great nurses as well as great companions. He had a threesome with two Dutch dancers, and trust me those girls were beautiful; bodies and attitudes to die for. Yet that newly married couple had him running for cover.

Paul was a scuba instructor. Six feet tall, slim and tanned, longish blonde hair, and I would say only reasonably good looking. But the boy had an intelligence and a manner which could charm, amuse, entertain and educate. He was from Chicago, and whether or not that is normally a popular accent, his voice had wonderful tone and his words and expressions were pure joy to listen to. Had I been female I would have shagged him senseless.

I too have a certain wordy charm, and an ability to flirt far beyond the norm. I have seen people have their face slapped trying to match me. Have had husbands face up to a guy for trying it on with their wife. Yet i have never had an inkling of trouble. And i have no idea why. I tell people that women know that I am too old to be serious, and they know I would run a mile if they took me up on my suggestions. Paul and i made a good team on the boats, and had a lot of fun. I would even chat up a girl with the intention of passing her to Paul when she was ripe. I swing but I am never unfaithful. Paul is under orders to tell me every detail when the deed is done. It's like secondhand infidelity. Pervy but ultimately harmless. Wendy and I have spent many a long dinner with Paul, discussing deeply personal issues. To be honest most of the kids spend their down time talking about sex. Probably more talking than doing it.

The three of us became the closest of friends over a couple of years, and Paul was one of very few people who we admitted our swinging past too. In fact we had been to a couple of weekend swingers parties whilst living on the island. We often went to Bangkok for shopping and entertainment, so it raised no eyebrows when we disappeared for a week. Awesome parties with some serious swingers, and some incredible memories.

Paul and I had arranged to meet with Wendy for dinner. Dinner had continued onto drinks, then a club on the beach, then to a quiet bar. We were the only customers and the barmaid the only staff. She was a friend and happy for us to chat and drink as late as we liked. We were far from being drunk but in that wonderful relaxed state where inhibitions take a break, words flow, and you bounce from topic to topic, and no one takes offence whatever you say, or takes it too seriously either.

Paul had met an Austrian girl who he thought might be the one. He spoke to her on the phone, decided to move on and visit her for a lengthy period in Austria. After he hung up the phone (do you still do that with a cell phone?) he was upset and Wendy hugged him and stroked his face until he recovered his composure. It takes very close friends for a 28 year old guy to shed a tear with.

Three more drinks came to the table, and Wendy said how much she would miss Paul. Out of the blue she muttered laughingly 'All those girls, and you've never had me Paul. I should feel left out'. Paul, suffering a serious moment anyway, replied 'If you hadn't been Daves' wife I would have been trying to shag you a very long time ago. I think you must be awesome in bed, and with the adventures you two have had I really, really would be honoured to spend a night with you. You wouldn't know the number of wanks I have had with you in mind. I've spunked gallons over you'. I made the natural joke about that image.

Wendy blushed gracefully but kept quiet. Me. I don't do quiet. 'Wendy has gushed quite a bit over you too Paul. If she catches you changing into those lycra shorts showing that cock off, you can bet I am going to catch her with her vibrator shortly after we get home. Don't you dear?' I smiled.

'And don't you enjoy teasing me about Paul and you shagging me, oh dearest one'

'Touche, my love.'

Paul laughed at our repartee and told us we were in danger of giving him a hard on at a time when there were no women around.

'Paul, I will make you a small wager that Wendy is getting moist at the thought of shagging you, and of you sitting there with a hard on.'

This was a normal sort of conversation for us, but had never led to anything.

Wendy giggled as she said 'Dave, you are so wrong. I am NOT moist'

Paul rubbed his hands together and ordered a round on me.

Wendy reached over and covered Pauls hand with hers. Looking into his eyes, their heads naturally drifting closer, she quietly said ' Paul, I am soaking my panties with love juice, and my brain is doing overtime imagining what you would be like in bed.'

I laughed, I cheered, I clapped Paul on the back, I leant over and kissed Wendy on the cheek. The look on Pauls' face was priceless. His adams apple bobbed up and down, and for a few precious moments Paul was speechless. It was a monumental moment.

Recovering his equilibrium Paul moaned 'I have such a freaking hard on now. You, Wendy, are incorrigible. I thought he was bad enough'

Wendy laughed at his discomforture ' Not incorrigible Paul, just very truthful dear'.

It came out of nowhere. It was not planned, not thought through. An impulsive sentence that had the words out of my mouth before my brain had clearly digested them.

'As you are leaving the island for good Paul, why don't I give you Wendy for the night as a going away present. You can bring her home tomorrow, say tomorrow at 2pm. Give you both plenty of time.'

How do you describe a look that is a mix between shock, anticipation, desire and disbelief. Wendy giggled. Because girls can do that. Real men don't giggle. But Paul was making some sort of weird gurgling, whilst wriggling in his seat. Finally he took a deep swallow of his drink. We all did.

My brain had engaged by now, so I put up some sort of intelligent reasoning. 'Paul, you know I like to give Wendy what she wants, and I know you wouldn't want to have a threesome with us, in fact I think I would find that a little awkward too, but this seems a great opportunity for me to give two people who are very special to me a few hours to enjoy something special.'

After that long sentence I needed a sip from my drink. Paul looked at me and said 'You're not joking are you?', Wendy looked at me and said 'Are you sure?'

Don't you just love women. They know what they want!

'Paul my boy, you know Wendy is going to tell me everything you do to her. So I will get my pleasure out of the arrangement too. I'll just manage to get a few hours sleep first. Which I will probably need. Take my lady home, show her every play in your gamebook, and drop her at the house tomorrow at 2pm. That will give you almost 12 hours for uninterrupted sex. We'll catch up with you in a few days when any lingering embarrassment will have been forgotten. Deal?'

What? You think I had to ask Wendy if she wanted to go home with Paul. I know my woman. I knew that look on her face, in her eyes. Had I plunged my cock deep into her pussy at that moment she would started cumming by the third stroke. Seriously.

Paul, being a gentleman, despite being young, asked Wendy if I was serious and whether she was happy with the plan. Her reply was thus.

'I think it would be better if you took me home for 4pm. I might need an hours sleep. You once told me you could come five times in a night. Let's try for six times Paul'.

So the drinks were drunk, the bill was paid, the barmaid kissed on the cheeks by us all, and we wandered over, arm in arm, to where our motorbikes were parked. I think Paul still wasn't convinced it would happen until, after a few quiet words together I helped Wendy clamber across Pauls pillion seat.

I'd love to describe how her stocking tops were visible, how great her legs looked in her heels. How her cleavage looked inviting in her low cut top. Unfortunately That will have to wait for another day. She did have a short denim skirt on. But it was matched with a spaghetti strapped vest top and a pair of flip flops.

Mind you I couldn't resist giving her one last deep, tongue lashing kiss and slipping my hand between her legs. A pussy is so exposed sitting on a motorcycle. Legs naturally spread, skirt high. My fingers found their way under the elastic, slipped through dense pubic hair and discovered a reservoir. Deep and oh so wet. She was soaked. Her pussy lips spread instantly and my fingers were coated in hot love juice. I almost changed my mind and took her home myself.

Leaning round to Paul, I put my wet fingers to his mouth. 'Get yourself home and have fun mate'.

I watched as they disappeared into the darkness. Then I too went home.

With difficulty I did manage to sleep. My head was filled with fleeting images thinking about what they were doing. My waking thoughts were of the pair of them. After cooking breakfast I pottered around the house filling the time by doing some small jobs. The hours passed quite quickly, and around 4pm I heard Pauls' exhaust puttering along the track leading towards our house. Wandering onto the balcony I watched Wendy make her way along the long walkway, then up the stairs towards me. She came onto the balcony with a big grin on her face, and a look that said 'I'm exhausted'. Our arms went around each other and our lips met in a gentle and loving kiss. With it we expressed to each other that all was ok.

We moved into the house and leaned against a kitchen counter. 'You have a good time?' I asked sliding my hands to the top of Wendy's buttocks. 'Mm, he is very good in bed' came the reply. 'Darling, have you had this hard-on since I left you last night?' Her hand felt for my zip. 'If I tell you that Paul was inside me no more than 15 minutes ago, and left me high and dry on the point of orgasm; yes, the bastard pulled out and said he wanted you to have the pleasure of my wet pussy, well, will you please take me into the bedroom, and fuck me hard'

'Tell me more' as I felt her fingers wrap around my now exposed cock. Wendy dipped her head, taking the head of my cock into her mouth, giving it a wet sloppy licking. Now she could rub my cock, my foreskin sliding nicely over the purple head.

Our lips were touching as she continued 'I had to shower before I came home but as I got dressed Paul tumbled me onto the bed. I told him we didn't have time but he started going down on me. He has a wonderful tongue my love. So I just spread my legs. I was just getting into it, humping my pussy at his chin when he stopped. He jumped up saying it was time to go. I already had my bra and shirt on, and of course my panties were such a soggy mess after last night. Well, actually Paul asked to keep them as a souvenir. God, I'd been so wet last night. Anyway I was just zipping up my skirt when Paul bent me over the bed and slipped his cock into me from behind. Did I tell you he has a nice cock. Very nice. He was fucking me with long, slow strokes. He told me he wanted to deliver me back well fucked but ready for more. Told me to thank you for sharing me with him. I had one pleasant little cum but Paul seemed to know I was building towards a big one. And of course as soon as I started to gasp he pulled out, slapped me on the arse and said 'I think the old man can finish that one off for you'.

By now my cock was leaking pre-cum which Wendy was massaging over the jap-eye with her thumb. Turning her body slightly I slid one hand under the hem of her skirt and up the front of her thigh. The skin felt so soft in my heightened state. So smooth. I leaned back, staring into her eyes. 'Don't I remember there being some pussy hair here yesterday?' Wendy giggled. 'Paul wanted to surprise you. So he shaved me last night. Or should I say this morning. He was giving me a nice oil massage, then shaved me. I was so wet that when his tongue touched my clit I came straight away. I think he was quite surprised. Then he tongued and fingerfucked me for what seemed hours. I was begging for his cock, honestly really begging. I had to promise to let him fuck my asshole before he'd give me his cock. Oh boy, did he fuck me good. He was like a machine hammering away at me. I just kept cumming, and cumming. When he flipped me onto my side I could feel a sloshy wet patch beneath me. I didn't really even feel it when he slipped into my ass. He did try and be gentle but I was humping at him so hard. He just went back and forth. From my ass to my pussy, and I just kept cumming. Paul had cum four times already so it took an age for him to shoot. I was like a limp rag doll flopping around. I don't even know if he came in my ass or my pussy.'