Swinging Twins

Maureen caught Dave's attention and waved, and Deb looked at me and winked. Then the two of them stepped, hand-in-hand, into the observation room.

Confused, I stepped forward to follow, but Deb held up her hand in the universal symbol for "Wait".

Dave gave me a puzzled look and I shrugged my shoulders.

In the observation room, the naked sisters climbed onto the bed closest to the window. They kneeled on the mattress, wrapped their arms around each other in a loving embrace, belly-to-belly, tits crushed against each other, and kissed deeply.

My jaw dropped. Dave looked at me. "Dude, what the fuck?" He asked quietly.

My eyes went from Dave to our wives and back again. "I don't have a clue, Dave, but I'd guess this isn't their first time together. Did you know anything about this?"

"We've been married for twenty-three fucking years. You two, what, twenty years? And neither of us had a goddam clue?" He shook his head. "Maureen, I dunno, maybe. But Deb? She's Miss prissy goodie-two-shoes, right? So what the fuck is this?"

Maureen's hands were on Deb's buttocks now and they ground their pubes together. Debbie teased her sister's nipple, and the deep kissing continued.

A crowd was gathering at the observation window now. Over the loud music coming down the hall, I could hear whispers of "twins" and "sisters" and "two chicks together."

I ignored them.

The women separated, and my wife lay on her back. Maureen looked up at Dave and twiddled her fingers at him and winked. She leaned over Deb's breast and sucked for a moment, then moved down to her crotch and parted Deb's knees. She stroked Debbie's wet pussy and rubbed her fingers over the clit area in a slow, circular motion. We could hear Deb's low moan. Maureen gently pushed her fingers between her twin's moist pussy lips, exploring and teasing until Deb writhed under her.

Maureen planted her lips on Deb's exposed vulva. Her tongue slipped in and out of Deb's pussy with quick, lapping movements. She used her fingers to pull back the hood, and I could see her tongue flicking at my wife's clit. I watched Deb's reaction as she climaxed the second time that night, listened for her familiar yell. Her hips bucked up involuntarily, and Maureen continued licking and rode the movements like an expert.

Debbie collapsed, and Maureen stroked her hair lovingly and for a full minute.

Partly recovered, and after taking a deep breath, Deb then pulled her knees up to her ears again as she had when she fucked Greg just ten minutes ago. There was evidence of that coupling—a pearl white glob of Greg's cum seeped from her slit. Maureen grinned, slurped it up with her tongue, then kissed Deb again. I watched the snowballing as they passed the cum from mouth to mouth.

Next to me, Dave had hardly moved. His bulging eyes were focused on his wife and he hardly breathed.

Deb pushed Maureen gently onto her back and kneeled beside her. She pushed her thumb of her right hand deep into her twin's pussy and started stroking, then snaked her middle finger down Maureen's ass crack and massaged her rosebud. The thickness of the thumb is so much more effective than a finger, and not as rough as two fingers. I thought I'd invented that move when Deb and I were in bed.

Deb used her left hand to expose Maureen's clit, which was huge. It was the size and shape of a ripe nipple. Another difference between the twins. Deb's clit was small by comparison, extremely sensitive, and well concealed by its hood. She massaged her twin's engorged clit between her finger and thumb, still pumping the thumb of her other hand into Maureen's pussy, still rubbing her sphincter. It was a two handed assault, very intense, and one of the most erotic things I'd ever seen.

Despite having come all over Mary a few minutes ago, my cock stood proud before me and a thick rivulet of pre-cum was running down my shaft.

I glanced at Dave. He stared at his wife, mesmerized. His short thick cock was in his hand and he was pumping it slowly, unconsciously.

Debbie's right arm was a blur now as she hammered her thumb into her sister's gash. The palm of her hand slapped flesh and her big finger was still deep between the ass cheeks. When Maureen came, Deb leaned in and kissed her deep and long. Maureen's body whiplashed under her. The "Ah, ah, aaahhh AAAH" cries were muffled by Deb's kiss.

There was an "Ooooh yesss" from one of the women spectators behind me.

The sisters lay next to each other in a silent embrace for a full minute before they sat up and waved at Dave and me. There must have been ten spectators behind us, and they burst into a spontaneous applause.

EIGHT

Dave and I used to play racket-ball after work every Wednesday night, but thanks to the excessive demands of our jobs that had now slipped to once a month. I'd secured a monthly 5:30pm court booking at the local gym, and made sure it was in both of our corporate schedules as a recurring appointment marked as "out of office" and with a four-hour reminder.

We'd both been shocked by our wives' performance at the club four days ago, but hadn't discussed it. All Deb had said afterwards was "Remember I said there was something else I needed to tell you, and that it might be more of a shock than what I'd already told you? And that you might even be turned on by it? Well—now you know everything." We were both too tired to discuss it, so I suggested that we talk about it later in the week.

Dave arrived at the court late, as usual, which always annoyed me., We'd booked it from 5:30 to 7:00 but he seldom had the energy to play for the full ninety minutes, so it didn't matter.

There was no jovial greeting. Just a quick "Hey, let's play," and we were on the court warming up. He probably still felt awkward about the events at the club. I couldn't tell if he'd come to grips with it yet, if he was simply embarrassed, or if he was uncomfortable with parts of his intimate life being exposed.

He slammed the ball into the back wall and it flew inches past my ear, and he caught it on the rebound from the front wall and again cannoned it with a resounding whack so I had to duck under it.

Dave was a better player than me. I don't have his excellent eye-hand coordination, but I could usually wear him down. His play became ragged after a few games, though I was usually still fresh and the points would start going my way. So the day's winner often depended on how long we played.

He caught the ball after a weak bounce off the back wall and looked at me.

"You ready?" I asked.

"US rules. Best of three."

"Nah - best of five," I countered.

"Three!" He emphasized by bouncing the ball and serving fast and low, with no warning. It skimmed the floor at my feet and I had no chance of returning it. His next serve was a blinder and I got it to the front wall more by lucky interference than by skill. This was going to be a whitewash.

Game one continued and I hardly touched the ball. Dave's play was hard and fast and angry, with none of our usual friendly rivalry. I went down by an embarrassing 15-4.

"What the hell is wrong, Dave? You okay?"

"Fifteen four. Ain't nothing wrong with that. You gonna serve or what?"

"Jesus, buddy, take it easy. You want to get a beer after the game?"

"Your serve." He crouched, ready. Game two. My serve was higher than I'd planned, and I made the mistake of a 'long serve' where the ball hits the back wall without touching the floor first. That's a fault, so I stood expecting Dave to catch the ball and take over the serve. But there was a thwack and my back was instantly on fire.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Your serve."

"Jesus!" I yelled. "Christ that hurts!" I held my back, waiting for the pain to subside. Dave just glared at me.

Dave's hard, driving play had sapped his energy by the time the score reached 11-7. He was hitting wildly and I needed to duck or jump aside far more than usual. I ran for every ball and tried to hit them to the opposite court, draining my opponent further. At 13-13 he started flailing wildly at the ball, aiming at me as often as at the wall, and at 13-15 I had the win and we moved to game three.

"US rules - play to eleven."

"Okay, Dave," I said. When your opponent is tired, I remembered from my competitive long-distance running days, let him see how fresh you are. So I combed my fingers through my hair, stood straight, and gave him a broad smile. "Your serve."

He scowled.

Dave's temper flared at 5-7 in my favor and he banged his racket against the floor every time he lost a point. I had him and expected an easy win. But the guy was having a hard time in his marriage. The business pressures were mounting on him by the day. His wife's girl-on-girl performance at the club had left him embarrassed and confused. And now he was losing at a game that was usually one of his strengths. This was one of those times when the cliché of discretion being the better part of valor applied.

My next serve was supposed to be a sneaky angle-shot, but it hit two walls before hitting the floor which is a fault. The serve went back and forth a few times because I didn't want to make it obvious. He was exhausted and I was able to manipulate play so that he took the game, and the night's play, with an 8-11 win.

It didn't improve his demeanor.

We were in and out of the locker room pretty quickly. On our way out of the gym I asked "beer?"

"Nah, I gotta get back home. There's work I have to do before the morning-" He looked up. "What the FUCK!" I followed his eyes.

Two badly dressed youths stood beside Dave's little silver Porsche, smoking, laughing about something. One of them leaned a hand against the car's hood.

"Fuckin' little SHITS!" he yelled across the parking lot. "Get your fuckin' ass offa my CAR!"

They were nineteen, maybe twenty-year-old kids, and they didn't move. The bigger one leaned belligerently against the sports car, waiting for us to arrive. "You got a problem, fat man?" asked the smaller one.

"You little asswipe!" Dave stepped in to the kid. I saw, too late, that he had his racket in his hand.

The kid jumped at Dave and drove a fist at him but it only hit Dave's shoulder. Dave swung the racket and connected with the kid's ribs. I heard a distinct crack. The kid cried out in a strangled falsetto and went down.

His buddy was bigger and came at Dave from behind, eyes focused on the racket, forgetting about me. I came in from the side and smacked a flat hand against the kid's nose. Hard enough to shock, soft enough to avoid permanent damage. Blood spurted, and the kid went down.

"Get in the car. Now!"

Dave was quick to react. He unlocked, we jumped in, and he peeled out of his parking spot before anyone came to investigate the fracas.

We pulled over beneath a street lamp a few blocks down. "Jesus, buddy, what the hell is wrong?" I asked. "Talk to me!"

"Nothing. Just...I dunno, man, I'm still trying to figure it all out. I guess I'm just pissed-off at everything. You know? Just generally pissed."

I nodded.

"Maureen thought that shit the other night would be a turn-on for me. I mean it was hot, right? But fuck it, I dunno-"

"I have a good friend who has a psychology practice in Fairfax. He does counselling sessions, one-on-one, marriage therapy, family relationsips-"

"Jesus, Neil, don't give me that shit, okay? I'm a big boy, Maureen's a big girl, and we'll figure it out ourselves. Or not. But I don't need to be tellin' a fuckin' shrink how I was potty trained."

"You can't carry on like this, Buddy. This isn't like you. I won't bring it up again, but if you want this guy's contact details, I'll be happy to help."

Dave didn't answer, just pulled out and made his way back to the gym. The two kids were gone. As he pulled up to my car I said "just remember this. Whatever Maureen is doing, she's doing for you. She's trying to keep you, trying to make you happy. Just go with it, Dave. Give the girl a chance. Don't just toss more than twenty years aside."

"Yah, I hear you, man. But I'll figure this out." It was as if he hadn't heard a word I said.

"As Deb's twin sister, Maureen is important to me. And despite that ball on my back before, I love you like a brother. Now go home and be nice to your wife."

"Yah," he said dismissively. "And sorry about that," he pointed at my back.

NINE

"That bruise is going to be there for a while," Deb told ne as she changed my ice pack.

Dave's not-so-stray ball had hit me high on the buttocks, near the spine, and thankfully about two or three inches south west of the kidney. She wrapped the ice pack in a dish cloth and held it gently against the welt.

"Thanks, hon." I reached for her hand. We sat nude, on towels as usual, at our kitchen table. "So I need to know more about the other night. At the club." She sat across the table from me and smiled. "That was obviously not a first-time experience for you two."

"No," she said quietly. "But to answer the question you're building up to, the last time that happened was before we were married." She knew me too well.

"When did it start? And did it tie in Maureen's abuse as a child?"

"It was all in our final year at college, when we were roomies, in our early twenties. I'd been going steady with some jerk called Ray that I thought I liked. Then this Ray guy just dumped me without any explanation. I hadn't expected it and I was an emotional wreck for a short time. Maureen was my rock. She held me and said all the right things. She was almost like a parent. You know, stroking my hair, telling me that she was going to fix everything and how pretty I was and what a jerk Ray was..." She smiled at the memory.

"It had been the other way around for a long time. I mean, I was the one who was there for Maureen. I helped her get her grades up, I got her out of some nasty relationships, and of course I knew how damaged she was from the way Mom and Dad had molested her all those years."

I nodded again, and we held hands across the table.

"While I was in my emotional state I told Maureen that Ray had been my first serious sexual partner and I was going to miss that. Typical of Maureen—she had this 'sex can fix everything' dogma that she still has today. She drew me into an intimate conversation about what Ray and I had done together. Next thing she was stroking me here-" Deb rubbed her hands over her chest. "It felt good and it was what I needed right then so I didn't complain. And—I guess it just went from one thing to another..."

"What happened next?"

"See, you are getting turned on!" She laughed. "It was pretty simple, really. Maureen started rubbing my pussy. I didn't stop her, so she put her hands into my panties and felt how wet I was. Next thing we were naked in bed and she made me come in maybe two minutes with her fingers on my clit.

"We both skipped lectures for the rest of the week. My sister has a huge sex drive and it was hard to keep up with her. She taught me more about the female anatomy than I'd ever known."

"I'd say the huge sex drive thing runs in the family." I regretted it as soon as I said it. "I mean...you and Maureen both have a strong drive."

"Yeah. And My Dad did too. And my Mom. Perhaps it's the family curse."

"How long did you and Maureen, er, carry on-"

"You mean how long did my twin sister and I continue fucking each other?" She laughed.

"Yeah, that."

"We were at it pretty regularly through the rest of the year, but it stopped when she met Dave."

"Regularly?"

"You're getting horny, aren't you!"

"I'm trying not to."

"Maybe three or four times a week. We still dated guys. After our dates we'd sometimes get back into our off-campus apartment and Maureen liked to...well, let's say she liked the taste of where I'd been."

"Like last Saturday?" I asked. "When she licked that Greg guy's cum from you?"

"Just like last Saturday. Maureen did that because she was hoping to turn Dave on. Remember, in her world, sex can fix everything. But me? I went with it because I knew you'd be turned on."

"Jesus, honey, for two decades you've been the conservative wifey. But there's a dark side to you that I'm only now beginning to see. You didn't want to go to the club, but when I pushed for it, you were all-in. I think you're more turned on by the club than I am. If that's possible," I chuckled.

Deb looked deep into my eyes. "Neil, I'm the wife you want me to be. I love you, and will always do whatever it takes to make us happy. Yes, I have strong urges, and yes, I like to be adventurous. But I'll never do anything to make you uncomfortable."

I'd always thought I was in the driver's seat in terms of our sexual relationship. In reality, I now knew, my wife had a stronger sex drive than me and was far more experienced to boot. All these years she'd been pacing herself to keep up, or down, to my needs.

It was a lot to take in. Her enthusiasm at the club. The confessions of her lesbian couplings with her twin sister. The revelations of Maureen's sexual abuse by her parents. How turned on, if conflicted, she'd been when she watched Maureen and her parents. The powerfully sexual experiences of the past week. And now, my discovery that her libido was stronger than I had ever known. It was almost overwhelming, and I had never felt as close to my wife as I did now.

"I love you, babe. More than you could know."

TEN

Long ago, Deb and I fell into a lazy Sunday routine. We'd wake up late and read the Washington Post, nude in bed, with coffee and croissants. Then we'd wander over to the book store in the mall and page through magazines over reduced-fat turkey bacon breakfast sandwiches and a second coffee. We usually rolled home in the early afternoon and make love on the couch, then she'd fall asleep while I would watch a ball game.

Glorious decadence.

In the book store I had my usual stack pf photography, running and hiking magazines. Deb was browsing the books on home improvement and interior decorating when she heard a "Hey, kiddo!" behind her.

"Hey, Sis!"

Maureen looked dowdy in sweats and her hair was disheveled. Worse, she looked old and tired. She told us Dave was at the office, and I think she knew we might be here. I pulled up an extra chair, and went to get coffee and a muffin for her.

The sisters were in deep conversation. I hesitated before going back to the table, but Deb waved me over.

Maureen was in tears as I joined the conversation. "I swear, he's pulling away from me. I don't know what I've done wrong." Deb put her hand over Maureen's. "Jesus, Dave and I have both been through so much shit in our lives. We finally get to a place where we're both happy, and now-" she trailed off. "What have I done to deserve it? Christ, he knows I'll do anything to make him happy. Anything!'

"I know, sis," crooned Deb. "Maybe he just needs time?"

"Time? That's the last thing he needs. This has been going on for weeks. Months. And with time, it's just getting worse! He won't talk to me. He's always in a temper. He blames me for the smallest things..."

She was sobbing openly now. We were beginning to get looks from people at the tables around us. Deb ignored them and held her sister's hand. "You know he loves you, sis. He's just going through a hard time."

"He blames work." She looked directly at me. "Is it true, Neil? Is he really working all those hours? Christ, tell me he doesn't have another woman!"

"There's no other woman," I assured her. "And yes, his department is under a lot of pressure and he's worked a lot of very late nights."

"Neil's also been working late, hon," added Deb.

"But the work pressures aren't affecting you the same way!"

That was true. Worse, I'd long been aware that Dave's department was under less pressure than mine yet he worked longer and harder than I did, delegated less, and buckled more easily under pressure from senior management. Was Dave just an ineffective manager, or was he using work as an escape from home?