John Friday: Swapping families

Brad couldn't get sexy young Salena off his mind. He half-closed his eyes and imagined it was her shapely waist his strong arm curved around, her taut pussy that pressed against the massive swelling of his restless cock.

"Maybe we shouldn't dance quite so close," Sharla whispered. "The others are all staring."

"Staring?" Brad's head snapped around. "Dina Franklin looks white as a sheet."

"And Mary's mother looks about to faint," Sharla observed.

"What's with them? We all fuck each other, dancing can't be." Brad stiffened when a strong hand tapped his shoulder from behind.

"Dad… mind if I cut in?"

"MIKE?" Brad's head whirled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Asking to dance with the sexiest lady in the place," the handsome young teen said in a deep, calm voice.

"But-but…"

Sharla beamed up a warm smile and almost melted into Mike's outstretched arms.

"Jeeeezuuus Christ!" Brad said. The shock of seeing his young son left him numb.

"Hi, Mr. Winslow," a sultry voice crooned over his shoulder.

"Salena?" He turned, more startled and shaken than before.

She was wearing a long, low-cut satin gown that was probably her mother's. It made her look much more mature, and there was nothing girlish at all in her gleaming bright eyes.

"Would you like to dance?" she asked evenly. "I saw how you were rubbing your big cock all over my mom."

"Er, yeah… yeah, let's dance."

In a way it was like a dream come true. Salena felt soft and warm in his arms, and she danced with sensuous grace, teasing his stiff cock until he thought it might rip the front of his slacks. In another way it was a nightmare. None of the kids were supposed to know exactly where their parents were, and certainly not what they were doing.

Turning as they danced, Brad saw Ben and Mary walking across the terrace toward the table where the other adults we're seated, all gazing with eyes wide and blank in complete shock.

"How the hell did you find us?" he asked Salena.

"The name of the hotel shows in one of the pictures Mike found. The rest was easy, we just…"

"Pictures? What pictures?" Brad's usually deep voice was shrill with tension.

"The ones you took here last month and the month before. The ones in that box in the back of your closet."

"Ooooh, shit."

Until then, Brad thought they might be able to bluff the kids, make them think they really did come to the hotel for an evening of dancing.

Ben smiled and sat down boldly in an empty chair between his mother and father. His mother's huge tits heaved as she gasped in stunned embarrassment.

"Hi, Mom… hi, Dad," Ben said almost gleefully. His bout with Salena in the back of the van had filled him with confidence.

Dina Franklin gulped in a cooling breath and tried to recover her poise. After all, things did look innocent enough, the adults just sitting on the terrace dancing and enjoying a few drinks.

"I'm-I'm surprised to see you, Son," Dina said.

She smiled nervously, and the enormous soft peaks of her tits rose and fell with an uneasy rhythm.

"I'll bet you are!" Ben said sharply.

His gaze drifted from the shocked look on her face to the deep, soft cleft between her big tits. He'd never looked at her tits in quite that way before.

Dina wore a gown of rich gold brocade. Her neckline plunged in a deep sharp V, trimmed with a soft band of shimmering black fur. It contrasted sharply with her fair skin, which had turned white with the pallor of guilt.

But she recovered enough to say: "Wh-what I mean is, I'm surprised you wanted to come to a place where the music is so-so old fashioned."

"Mom, we didn't come here to dance. And neither did you!" The knowing look in Ben's eyes was magnified by his thick-lensed glasses.

"I think you and I should dance right now," she said sternly.

Dina wanted to talk to her son alone and find out exactly how much he and the others knew.

"Sure, Mom… anything you say."

He felt a strange and unsettling desire to press his bony chest hard against her mountainous soft tits.

Sharla was the only one of the adults to maintain any semblance of calm. She had the least to fear. She knew her daughter's youthful appetite for sexual adventure, and she, in turn, had been frank with her in discussing her own desires.

Mike had some trouble dancing to the slow, flowing strains of music he thought to be hopelessly old-fashioned. His mind and body were more geared to faster action. But the warmth and the softness of Sharla's body pressed close to his made it exciting enough for him.

He stroked a hand down her back through her waves of shimmering red-gold hair and the gleaming white mink below.

"Your hair is as soft as the fur," he remarked with a slight tremor in his voice.

"You didn't drive all the way to the coast to tell me that," she said.

"Er, no," he confessed readily.

"What do you want?" Sharla asked slyly.

She swayed her hips gracefully and rubbed her luxurious pussy mound across his outrageously stiff cock.

"Can't you tell?" He thrust back at her and stroked the sleek white fur, imagining that it was a broad spread of silky cunt hair.

Sharla glanced around. "The others are all watching. We can't keep making fuck-motions here on the terrace."

"Then I guess we should go up to your roam." Mike gazed longingly at her warm, appealing smile.

"Why not?" she said with a shrug.

He obviously knew the real purpose of the monthly gatherings. She twisted out of his arms and gathered the shimmering white fur close around her voluptuous figure.

"This way," she said, reaching out one black gloved hand.

"Mike and my mother are leaving," Salena said in a sultry whisper.

"Oh?" Brad replied.

He turned and saw them heading for the open French doors and the bank of elevators beyond. Salena watched and felt a chill of envy. Her mother looked so elegant, as regal and proud as a queen, but still frankly sexy and sensuous in her snow white fur and long black velvet globes.

"You want to go too?" Salena asked boldly.

She drew her shoulders back and forth so Brad could feel the lush, firm swelling of her tits. Then she pressed and squirmed her sleek cunt mound against the giant swelling of his cock.

"I don't believe it!" Mary's mother said sternly. Her face looked ashen when Mary sat down at the table beside her. It paled even more when she saw the two couples leave the terrace.

"I didn't believe it either," Mary answered calmly.

She wore one of Sharla's long dresses that Salena had helped her pick out – a soft and clinging black fabric laced with slender gold threads as radiant and gleaming as the girl's long hair.

"You didn't believe what?" her mother asked almost fearfully.

"What all of you were really doing over here."

"You mean having dinner, a few drinks and dancing?" Mary's mother put up a smiling front of complete innocence.

"No, I mean all of you fucking each other."

"Oooh," her mother gasped, swaying as though she might faint and fall right off her chair.

"It's all right," Mary assured, her. "I understand now… I know a lot more now than when you left."

Her smile curved in a sly way her mother had never seen before.

"You learned what?"

"Enough to know I need to learn more." Mary turned to Ben's father, who sat across the table fidgeting nervously. "Would you like to dance with me, Mr. Franklin?"

"Huh?" he gulped… His mind was off somewhere else.

"Would you like to dance with a cuddly young blonde?"

Mary delighted in how her sultry-voiced question shocked her mother. She decided she had that coming for being two-faced and pretending to be so innocent and respectable.

"Oh, sure… sure, Mary."

By that time, Paul Franklin would have been happy to dance with a wet mop – anything to get away from the table and the chilling wave of tension that had broken and washed over them all when their kids had first walked onto the terrace.