Jack Parker - Photo orgy

That's what this Mrs. Greer was like. My balls ached just looking at her. She stood about five-eight and had long, straight blond hair, very blond. Her face was beautiful, with every feature like something out of a beauty school. Perfect eyebrows, full, sexy mouth, high cheekbones, a strong chin with a bit of a cleft, a long, slender neck, and two of the biggest, bluest eyes I've ever seen.

From the neck down, she was even better, if that's possible. What a body! Big, firm tits, a narrow waist, big hips and two golden legs, long and smooth and plump in the right places. She was wearing a plaid miniskirt, a cream colored heavy sweater, and a pair of brown pointy shoes. And around her neck was this chain with a shiny black stone resting between her big tits.

"Pete. Pete?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I guess I was staring, but you must be used to that."

She flashed me this big smile and led the way into a huge room, filled with plush furniture and fancy paintings, the works. We took a seat on a big sofa in front of the fire.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked, still smiling at me.

This was the damnedest thing. Here I was, a plumber to fix the pipes, and she was offering me a drink! I was too bowled over to do anything but go along with her. She had some reason for all this and would get to it in time.

"Sure," I said. "Scotch if you got it. On the rocks."

She got up and went over to the fireplace. She pressed this button on the wall and my eyes almost popped out of my head. The bricks above the mantle started sliding up into the ceiling. It was a fake. As they went up into the ceiling, this shelf of booze and glasses and a small sink and freezer came down and out, resting on the mantle.

"Geez!" I said. "What movie'd you get that from?"

She laughed and began mixing the drinks. "My husband goes in for things like this."

"Oh, yeah?" I wondered what line her husband was in.

She came back and handed me my Scotch. When we were both sitting and sipping and looking at the fire, she stretched an arm along the top of the sofa and turned to me.

"Well, I guess you're wondering how I got your name and why I called you."

"I guess you might say that." My cock was throbbing as I looked at her. What tits! What a face!

"I'll come right to the point, then," she said. "Now, I know this is going to sound strange to you, a bit unbelievable, but hear me out. You see, in the world I'm part of, things happen that you might think of as rather unusual, even shocking, but they happen nevertheless."

This bugged me. "Yeah," I said, "I'm just a small-town square, but I'll try and follow you."

She leaned toward me and put her hand on mine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. If I thought that about you, I wouldn't have even called." She squeezed my hand and then drew hers back. Just her touch was enough to make me forgive her anything; if my balls could talk, they woulda shouted "Baby, baby!"

"Sure, sure, that's OK," I said. "Go on with what you were saying." I edged toward her a little; I don't think I was ever so intrigued in my life.

"OK, I'll lay it on the line, Pete. I've got a friend here – I don't want to mention her name just now – who told me about you, oh, a good six months ago. We weren't up here then; we just took the house last month. Anyway, when I told this friend we were thinking of buying the house and moving up from New York she was excited and wanted to do anything to convince us it was the right move. We weren't quite sure, my husband and I, since we're used to the city and all the… well, activities."

"What kind of activities?" I asked.

She looked me right in the eye. "Swinging activities, Pete," she said. "We're swingers. Does that shock you?"

I swallowed. "Me? Hell, no. I've done some swinging in my time."

"I know," she said, "and that's why I called you. You see, this friend of mine just happened to drop your name. She was trying to convince us to move up and she used you to point out that things were happening up here. She didn't really make a big issue of it, just said in passing that there was one hell of a guy she knew that could show us city slickers a few things."

I guess I blushed then, for my face felt like you could use it to ignite paper. She smiled at me.

"Sandy's my name, by the way. Does it sound too much to believe so far?"

"I don't know," I said. "It is wild, but like you said, there's a lot of wild things in the world today." I couldn't help but believe her. Imagine, somebody clued this doll in to the fact that I was big-time action!

"Anyway," she continued, "now that we're here we want to start making contacts and we figured you could help us. And, Pete, my friend wasn't wrong about you." She put her hand on mine again and looked me up and down. I'm sure she saw my cock lump at the crotch of my jeans.

I was feeling crazy-dirty and was dying to jump on her right then and there. By way of keeping myself under control, I started talking fast.

"I don't understand a few things," I said. "Who's your husband and what's his line? And another thing. If you're making it in the city why do you need to get with the action up here? I mean, can't you bring your friends up and go down there?"

"Sure we can and we will," she said. "But let's face it, New York is over an hour away, two if you count parking and all the other hassles. Sure, we'll still hit the city, but we also want some action close by." She leaned toward me and grinned real sexy. "We like it and we like it all the time. We can't rely on friends fifty miles away."

My balls churned. Christ, what a hot, beautiful broad. And what a sexy voice! She was talking me into a weak ball of passion, and if she kept it up I was sure I was gonna start melting right there on the couch.

"What about your husband?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

She leaned even closer and I got a strong whiff of some great perfume. "He's a TV director," she said. "Commercials. Maybe you've seen some of his work – that's how we met, by the way. I'm an actress. There's one on now that you might have seen, for House of Paris Bath Oil Beads, with me in the tub rubbing myself and smiling while the announcer gives the pitch. Have you seen it?"

"No," I said, "I don't watch TV much. But I will from now on, all right."

She laughed and it sounded beautiful and sexy, high-pitched and musical and animal, like lusty bells.

"Listen," I said, "why'd you ever leave the city, anyway?"

"Oh, it was getting too rough down there," she said. "All the crowding and crime and noise. There was no need to stay there. My agent does all the running around for me and all I have to do is make a trip in once in a while when there's a job. That's where Dave is now, filming a commercial. Another reason we moved up here is that Dave has a lot of money saved and he wants to live for a year or more where it's quiet and do writing and thinking. He's trying to get out of the commercial end of things and break into real movie-making. He's got a great idea for a script."

"Oh," I said. I was getting more excited by the minute. I was gonna be running with some fast company if my luck held out.

Then Sandy freshened our drinks and sat back down, this time closer to me. I could feel her long silk strands of hair rubbing against my forearm, that's how close she was.

"Pete, what are you doing tonight?" She said this in a soft, sexy tone that hinted of fun.

"Nothing much," I said. "Why?"

"Dave is coming up from New York with a good friend of ours and I'd like her to meet you. We've made it together, the three of us, plenty of times. I think she'd like you." Sandy's eyebrows arched up and her blue eyes twinkled as she looked at me.

I took a gulp of the drink. "If she looks anything like you, you don't have to ask me twice," I said.