Jack Parker - Photo orgy

Then my cock jerked in my pants. Sandy had a hand on my knee, her long, manicured fingers squeezing gently.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sure you'll find her more than adequate. And I'll tell you something else…"

"Yes, yes!"

"You won't be only with her. We're swingers, remember? Swingers and swappers." Her fingers slowly moved up my leg until they rested on my thigh, just under the long bulge of my cock. I was dying to grab her and rip her clothes off but something held me back. She was so beautiful and classy, I gotta admit I felt a bit out of my league.

But she pressed her hand over my cock then and I leaned her face to mine, planting those heavenly lips on my mouth. After a long kiss, she pulled back and took her hand from my throbbing cock.

"That's just a sample," she whispered. "Can you come by at eight?"

"Yeah," I said. I was red in the face from the glory of it all. I always knew I was a sharp young stud, but to turn on a classy doll like this? I never dreamed it would happen, yet here I was, drinking and kissing this Sandy, an actress! And she had her hand on my cock!

Then she got up and took our empty glasses to the bar. She pressed the button and the thing went back into the wall.

"Well, I've got some things to do," she said. "So I'll see you at eight, all right?"

I got up to leave. "Eight," I said. She showed me to the door and the last thing I noticed as she closed it was that her expression changed. It went blank at the last second, when she thought I was no longer looking. I didn't think about it then, because I was worried about what I was gonna tell Carl. All this time and no money.

When I think about this meeting now, I kick myself over and over for being so stupid. Only a jerk could of fallen for it. I mean, what a wild, unbelievable story she gave me. But I'm like most guys; when a beautiful doll like Sandy tells you things about yourself and acts like she thinks you're hot stuff, you want to believe her and you do believe her.

I drove back to town with my head in the clouds.

At eight sharp I was back, pulling up in front of the big house. My cock was hard before I even knocked. Just thinking about what I was in for had kept it hard all afternoon and into the evening. Now, as I waited, all I could think about was what Sandy Greer's naked body was gonna feel like writhing on the end of my long cock.

The door opened and a tall, powerful-looking stud of thirty or so smiled out at me. He had blond hair and blue eyes and shoulders a yard wide.

"Pete?" he asked.

"That's me," I said.

"Come on in," he said, stepping back to let me by. I walked past him.

"Let me have your coat," he said. "I'm Dave." He extended his hand and I took it while handing him my coat with the other. He had a hell of a grip; for a second or so, as we shook, our eyes met in silent, knowing sizing-up action and our hands tightened. Then he let go and hung my coat in a hall closet.

"I've heard a lot about you from my wife, Pete," he said, as he led the way into the same room Sandy and I had spent the afternoon.

"Nothing bad, I hope," I said.

"Want a drink?" he asked. The bar over the mantle was out of the wall. He went to it and poured us two Scotch and sodas as I sat down on the sofa. The fireplace was still going strong.

"So, how's the plumbing game?" Dave said, bringing me my drink and sitting himself where Sandy had been earlier.

I felt a little awkward. After all, here he was, a big TV director, and me just a lousy plumber.

"Oh, it's OK, I guess. Nothing like your line, but it keeps meat on the table."

"Yeah, well, that's what counts," Dave said. "But I hear that you do all right for yourself up here." He gave me this wink and ran a hand casually through his shoulder-length hair.

"Sure," I said, "but it's nothing like your scene." I sipped the drink. One thing about Dave I liked right off; he sure knew how to make a stiff drink.

"Well, I've had some action down in the big town, that's for sure," Dave said. "But I'll bet you're going to turn out to be a good guy to know up here. And I'll tell you something. Sandy was right about you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She told me you were our kind of guy, know what I mean?" He looked me up and down. I was wearing my best outfit, a pair of twenty-buck brown slacks, a tweed jacket, silk tie, the works. "Yes," he said, "you'll fit right in, a handsome young stud like you."

I grinned and took another swallow of the drink.

"Thanks," I said. "Listen, where's your wife? And wasn't she supposed to have a friend here?"

"They're upstairs," Dave said. "They'll be down in a few minutes." He winked at me. "Wait'll you see the friend."

My cock twitched. It sounded intriguing; I'd be happy, though, with just a few rounds with Sandy.

"Your wife told me you got a lotta commercials on TV," I said.

"That's right," he answered.

"Maybe I seen some of them," I said. "Name off a few."

He started naming them off and I had seen more than one. I felt like a real jerk next to this Dave. He was only a few years older than me, but look where he was. He was big time, a man of the world, with beautiful broads up the ass. Well, things were looking up for me now. And in a few months they'd be looking even better.

Dave and I talked for about ten minutes, and then Sandy came into the room with the wildest broad I ever saw. This broad was the color of light milk chocolate and stood at least six feet tall. She looked skinny as hell, but I couldn't be sure exactly, because whatever it was she was wearing covered her down to the knees. It looked like a bunch of green and blue and silver silk scarves all hung together and thrown over her. She came fluttering into the room like a big butterfly.

Her hair was long and black, bushy and straight at the same time. It was frizzy but not quite kinky. She was a sharp, cold-looking doll. Her thin face looked colored to me, the lips and nose and all. But her eyes were slanty and had lashes a foot long on them. I guess the best way to sum her up is to say she looked like a beautiful colored broad with chink blood in her.

Whatever she was, I wanted her! My poor prick was bending itself out of joint as I looked up. I had never made it with black stuff and I had wanted to. But there just wasn't no black pussy in Northridge. As she and Sandy took seats between me and Dave on the long sofa, I wondered what it would be like sucking on her black tits and planting my cock up to the hilt in her furry, kinky dark hole.

"Well, I see you two are getting acquainted," Sandy said, smiling at Dave, then me. "Larhonda, I'd like you to meet Pete Novak. Pete, this is Larhonda Chang."

Larhonda Chang!

"Hello, there, Pete," she said. "I've heard a lot about you from Dave and Sandy." She spread her broad lips in a smile.

My cock twitched. "How's it going?" I said.

"Fine," she said, smiling at me in a funny way.

"Well," Dave said, rising. "Sandy, why don't we go on downstairs and let Pete and Larhonda get better acquainted? Larhonda, you two come on down whenever you're ready. And keep Pete's glass going."

He winked at me and Sandy smiled. Then they disappeared through a door at the far end of the room.

"What's downstairs?" I asked, when they were gone.

"Oh, lots of things," Larhonda said. "The pool, sauna, gym equipment, bar… lots of things."

"They do a lot of exercising, huh?" I said.

"Yes," she replied, "Dave used to be a gymnast – he was on the Olympic team in nineteen sixty-three."

"And what do you do?" I asked, feeling my oats. The strong drink was giving me a bit of a buzz.

"I'm a model," Larhonda said. "But I don't do much television, like Sandy. I do mostly print."

"What's that, print?" I asked. I got up and gave my glass a good refilling; Larhonda didn't seem to be drinking much. Her glass was still full and she just held it without putting her lips to it. I returned to the couch.