Ken and I have been active in the swinging community for some time. One day, we stumbled upon an advertisement from another couple. Curious, we decided to connect over the phone. My wife Bev was a bit unsettled by the voice on the other end—it sounded eerily familiar. Her nerves were palpable during our first meeting, fraught with the tension of the unknown. Imagine our astonishment when it turned out that the man was an old boyfriend from her high school days.
Our initial dinner was filled with nostalgia; they reminisced about their school days, while I engaged his wife in conversation. Although she and I didn’t share school memories, we discovered a shared hometown background. It felt like reconnecting with long-lost friends—those comfortable, familiar "old shoes" that somehow still fit perfectly.
The evening progressed in warmth and laughter, with conversations that twisted through naughty jokes and favorite old tunes. Eventually, the playing cards were brought out, and strip poker began, unfolding into hours of flirtatious teasing led by the women.
The room was filled with laughter, but soon everyone was comfortably naked, and the atmosphere shifted to one of playful intimacy. Pleasuring his wife was incredibly arousing; my beard became drenched from her overflowing joy. I savored the sweetness of her skin, teasing her until she quivered with delight. We connected deeply, the intensity of her response clearly indicating her pleasure.
Meanwhile, Bev was equally vocal, her moans mingling with the sounds of our laughter and play. I was too engrossed with my delightful partner to fully register Bev's cries, which sounded almost like barks of wild joy. The night was a cascade of ecstasy, culminating in an explosive moment that left me breathless and temporarily spent.
However, my partner was far from finished. Despite my fatigue, her skilled touch and persistent desire spurred me on, and I found myself rallying for another round, inspired by the drive of Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle." As we resumed, I felt as though I was swimming against a relentless current, her energy unyielding until exhaustion finally claimed us.
The aftermath left me sore and reflective, nursing what I jokingly referred to as my 'battle wounds' for days. Yet, as the weekend approached, Bev hinted at another gathering. Despite the physical toll, the thought of reuniting with our new friends brought a mischievous smile to my face.
"Looks like it's back to the days of sore winners and delightful sins," I mused, already looking forward to Saturday.
—Ken's endlessly adventurous mind.
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