David Ingram - Swinging Teachers

“Don’t stop, honey, keep fucking,” she gasped, her voice weak. “I came, came so hard, but I can make it again if you can last a while. I can feel it in there, feel it all, and it feels so good. Don’t stop, not ever!”

Chet kept pumping, not fast, but easy, with long in and out strokes. He usually lasted a lot longer the second time around, but knew it wouldn’t be tonight, not the way her cunt sucked at his prick when he drew out and then opened with a wet, slick sound when he pushed back in. She was one hot fuck, far better than he had hoped. Extremely beautiful women were so often lousy fucks, so damn sure they were doing you a favor. Not Leslie, though, she was digging it to the hilt, giving every bit as much as she was getting, maybe more.

“Aw, shit, baby, I can’t hold out very long,” he cried.

“It’s okay… honey, I’m close, too. Keep going, faster… uh, that’s good, yeah, yeah, I can make it, let’s come together, darling. I wanta come just when you start spurting inside me. Faster, honey, faster, I… I’m almost there… aw, shit, babeeeeee!”

Chet felt her legs over his back again and knew it was time. His balls went tight and that exquisite feeling surged up the length of his prick, pushing a thick, white wad of goo ahead. His gut lurched when the stuff spit out into her waiting pussy and he thrust hard, eager to fill her with his sperm.

“Awwwwwww, fuck!” Leslie shouted, twisting and turning under him. It was a slower orgasm than the first, deeper and more satisfying. She lifted her ass from the bed and hung in the air while he humped his stuff into her.

He finally went heavy on top of her, his weight pushing her back onto the bed. He lay like this, panting for air, while his prick slowly drained the last thin, watery strains of his manhood into her belly.

“Goddamn, that was good,” Chet gasped.

Leslie didn’t answer. She lay still moving her pelvis in a slow circular motion, drawing the wonderful sensation to the extreme limits. She felt dazed, almost faint, the throbbing thrill of coming still within the very marrow of her bones. It seemed to go on and on, the more she slithered under him, the more drugging the dying spasms became.

With her orgasm fading, her body numb with pleasure, she wished he was in her mouth, the milky stuff draining slowly down her gullet. She wondered what it would have tasted like if she had sucked him all the way, and knew that she would have to find out, knew that she would have liked it. She knew, too, that now she would need a lot of sex to be satisfied, a lot more than she had been getting.

“I almost came that time,” he wheezed, gasping for air, laughing at his joke.

“I think I did,” she said, her legs still over his back, holding his wilting prick in. “You’d better do it again to make sure.”

“Aw, fuck… I wish I could,” he said, his lungs burning with laughter. “You’ve fucked me out, lady, all the way out.”

She finally let him slip free and bathed in her languor.

Chet let his feet drop off the bed to the floor. “I think I’ll go home. It’s late and I have to get up in the morning,” he said.

Leslie lay on the bed and watched him dress. Afterwards can be almost as good as during, she thought, as a warm, soft glow closed in on her. She felt so serene, so calm, so satisfied, so completely wonderful.

“Light me a cigarette before you go, and do come again sometime,” she said.

“I’ll come again with you, anytime you want.” he said, grinning.

“I’ll take you up on that… soon.”

After he left, she lay on her back and smoked the cigarette. She was surprised at how good she felt about the whole thing. Barney knew that Chet had fucked her, at least the first time, and would have qualms in the morning, forgetting his own part in the swap. She was sure of one thing, though, she was going to need more sex than good old Barney could give her.

Barney moaned softly and rolled onto his back. She saw his soft prick and reached out and took it in her hand. It was soft and pulpy; she had never held it when it was like that before. Fascinated, she started to slowly stroke it, wondering if she could get it hard with him out cold. It stirred in her hand and she wondered if she could make him come.

She masturbated him until he was almost all the way up, and then on impulse, shifted around on the bed and took his cock in her mouth. She sucked wetly at the knob, then slid down, taking his shaft inside, struggling to repress gagging. She was sure she could taste Marva’s pussy on the thing and reveled in the perversity. When she was sure she had him cleaned all the way down, she backed off until she held only the fat knob. He was completely hard now, though still out cold, and lifting up to meet her sucking lips. She started stroking the shaft while she sucked, intent now on making him come. She decided she liked cock sucking, liked the taste, liked the act. It wouldn’t make her come, but it certainly made her pussy flutter with excitement.

Barney was moaning now, lifting and twisting with his hips. She felt his cock stiffen even more and then actually felt the hot stuff come up through his shaft. Her heart was pounding when the thick goo spilled into her mouth. He stomach tumbled once at the thought, and then accepted the first wad of jizz as she swallowed. She kept pumping and sucking and swallowing until there was nothing left.

Leslie let his cock, going soft again, fall from her mouth and righted herself in the bed. Turning off the light, she decided that it was only right that she should taste her husband’s seed first. She dozed off wondering what another man’s stuff would taste like. Surely it would be different, Barney’s was tasteless and flat.

The next morning Barney awakened with a terrible hangover. Leslie felt great, but she hadn’t imbibed as heavily as Barney and she had thoroughly enjoyed what had happened; it was obvious that Barney hadn’t. He spent the entire day moaning and complaining, never mentioning what had happened, almost as if not facing it made it never have happened.

“I’m glad the folks aren’t coming today; I just couldn’t take it, not the way I feel,” he said over supper. Actually, he wasn’t that fond of his parents and what he really couldn’t stand was his father’s bragging, and his mother’s clucking sarcasm and her constant nagging.

“When will they be here?” Leslie asked.

“They’ll arrive on Wednesday, what time I don’t know.”

Leslie’s eyes rolled skyward. “How long are they staying?”

“Just a few days, and I’m sure I won’t enjoy it any more than you. Dad wants to see the game Friday evening. He’s an old jock, you know.”

“Yes, I know, that’s all he talks about. I really don’t mind, though, I like your parents, Barney.”

“Sure,” he said sullenly.

“Probably better than you,” she added.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Barney said. He pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet. “I feel like hell. I’m going to go and lie down.”

Barney was his old self the next morning and had just returned from a five mile jog when Leslie awakened. He peeled off his sweats and fell to the floor in his shorts and started doing push-ups. Leslie sighed and rolled onto her side.

She saw Mac Lancaster at the super market on Tuesday and was surprised at how friendly he was. Some of his remarks were a bit suggestive, too. He reminded her not to forget the party at his house after the football game on Friday. It was the first she had heard of it. Barney had made no mention of a party.

Ben and Grace Thorn arrived shortly after lunch on Wednesday. Grace gave Leslie a timid hug and Ben gave her a kiss on the cheek, a kiss that seemed to ask for more, although Ben had always been gentlemanly with her.