Rex Taylor: Overeager wife

"You know," she smiled, "the first time it happened to me was during that crazy honeymoon on the beach. One day our housemates separated me and David, and she fucked him and. Roy screwed me. The next day, Stephanie managed to get me alone on the beach. Oh, it was lovely, a long strip of white sand and blue sea and no one for miles and miles and before I knew it, she was holding my tits, telling me how pretty they were, how much she envied them. She was small-breasted, just like you are. God, I've always wished I had a pair of tiny, perfect tits like yours! Let me touch them one more time. Anyway, the next thing I knew, she was sucking and kissing them, and somehow I got her bikini bottoms down and jammed my fingers into her cunt, and I found out I was bisexual. It's been easy riding ever since."

"It's a beautiful feeling," Maggie replied. "There was something about the way you used your mouth on me."

"Natural," Belinda smiled. "A girl knows what turns a girl on. Guys can learn it. David eats pussy as well as any girl in the world because I taught him. Ted could use a bit of instruction. Oh, I hope I didn't offend you! But it's true. He's too rough in the beginning. But you! I still can't believe you've never done it before. You were perfect. Come clean, Maggie – haven't you fooled around with a girl before?"

Maggie shook her head firmly. "I'm twenty-three years old, and it makes me sick to think of all the time I wasted."

"We'll make up for that," Belinda assured her. "Say! Are you still just a little bit horny?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Maggie giggled. Belinda leaned across the bed, her hands reaching for the telephone on the nightstand. "I've got a girl for you!" she chortled, dialing a number. "She's been my best friend for years and my part-time lover ever since David and I got back from our honeymoon. Hello! It's Belinda, of course. Did I get you out of bed? Really? Who with? No! I always thought he was gay for guys."

"Well, what can you possibly – Christina!" Belinda's voice broke into a wicked giggle. "I never thought of that! But why not? Say, I was just thinking of you, as always. David and I met a new couple tonight, Ted and Maggie Spencer. No, I don't think you know them. He's in charge of Community Services, where I do volunteer. Anyway, they're both beautiful and sexy and Christina, you must meet Maggie. She's sitting here creaming for someone like you. Do you think you can come over tonight? Can't you bring him along? No, not unless David is in the mood for it. Well, if he has a prior claim. Huh? I forgot all about it. Sure, we can go. Let me ask." She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.

"Busy tomorrow evening? There's a party. I'd completely forgotten about it until Christina reminded me. It should be kinky and fun."

"I don't think we're doing anything," Maggie said.

"Great. Christina – we'll all be there. We'll take our car. It'll be the easiest way. Ted and Maggie will probably have trouble getting in, since it's their first party, so we can be their sponsors. Okay! See you tomorrow? Come over early. I might be hungry." She giggled again. "'Bye, love!" And she smacked a kissed through the telephone.

"Well," she said, turning to Maggie, "it looks like Christina is tied up for the evening. She's in bed with Andrew Dawson – the town is named for his family, you know. He's a closet queer, to use a very vulgar expression, and that wicked twit Christina tells me she's taking a crash course in cocksucking from him. She figures that she can learn a few new kinks from his expertise, and I think she may be right. I suppose really it's just like two girls together. A guy knows what feels good when he's being sucked."

"What were you saying about David?" Maggie wondered.

"Oh, that. David's bi, too. He doesn't make an issue out of it, though. What's wrong? You look pale. Does it offend you to think that he does thin with other guys? If we can make love together, why should he have to follow some medieval set of regulations, anyway?"

"It just startled me," Maggie replied. "I mean, he seems so masculine."

"Of course he's masculine," Belinda laughed. "He'll fuck anyone who arouses him and is willing." She hugged herself dreamily. "He's all man, and all mine, but I'll share him." She snapped her fingers. "I've got it!" she gleamed. "Let's go down to his study, naked like we are. We'll drag him from behind his Goddamned desk, throw his opening argument all over the room, and rape him. What do you say?"

"Won't he be upset?"

"He'll fucking love it! And love both of us, if we're lucky. Are you coming?"

"Not yet but I should be in about fifteen minutes," Maggie snickered. "If your husband can get it up again."

"Does a bear shit in the woods?"

Christina Rumford was as gorgeous as Belinda had promised, or so it seemed to Maggie. She was a long-bodied girl who moved in easy graceful steps and gestures, her reddish hair cropped very short, her skin pale as fresh cream, enormous violet eyes dominating a lovely ace. Maggie envied her those eyes, just as she envied the assurance which enable rich young Christina to wear a disgracefully tattered pair of flare-leg jeans, a floppy black hat, and a denim jacket with her name in rhinestones on the back in big bold letters. And on Christina they looked like Paris originals. The jeans clung tightly to long, smooth thighs, lifted into the crack of a pert ass, while their bottoms flipped up mockingly to reveal polished black boots.

Christina spoke in a soft whisper of a voice that seemed to ooze from between her wide, thin lips. Those lips were painted in a glossy red tonight – and the lipstick was tasty, as Maggie could verify. Needing no introduction at all, Christina had given Ted a quick little kiss, her mouth dwelling much longer on Maggie's.

Now, sitting in the car on the way to the party, Maggie felt consumed with doubts. Last night, swinging with David and Belinda, had been fantastic, despite her initial doubts and reluctance. But was she ready for more? Was Ted? Shouldn't they have rejected the invitation, perhaps, and instead tried it out a few more times with David and Belinda, just getting the hang of it, working out their feelings?

She wondered if Ted felt the same way, but he was sitting up front with David and she didn't have the courage to ask him. Maggie slouched back, ill at ease in her best dress. What if she couldn't go through with a swinging party? What would happen there, anyway? Belinda had said it would be fun and kinky, but exactly what did that mean? What about the people? Who would be there? She didn't know that many people in Dawson, but suppose she walked into a room filled with her acquaintances? Would she be able to endure their stares? Even worse – what if no one at the party wanted her? She wished she had a minor handy, so she could give her makeup one last going-over. Was she as alluring, as lovely, as she could be? The dress was a clingy nylon item, fitting snugly around her little tits, and she knew that her braless nipples were bravely evident.

From the outside Maggie seemed to be calm and collected, but internally she was seething in fear-bubbles, a stew that threatened to boil out at any minute.

Beside her on the back seat Belinda and Christina were necking like a high school couple at the drive-in movies. Maggie was open to her own bisexual inclinations now, but she had not yet coped with the problem of watching two other girls go at it. Her eyes kept flickering toward them, catching a glimpse of wet kisses, of Christina's hand thrusting inside Belinda's leather jumpsuit to fondle a golden, pink-capped tit, of Belinda's fingers stroking the tight crotch piece of Christina's jeans.

Belinda looked at Maggie on one of those eye-shifting and she smiled. "We're awful hosts," she told her friend. Her hand went out, catching Maggie's, and Maggie eased over. Two mouths puckered for her and she pressed her face into them, taking and receiving warm, friendly kisses. Someone's hand clutched her tit, rolling the nipple through the intervening layer of thin nylon, and she felt a hand on her leg as well, slipping upward beneath the hem of her dress.