Dana Swanson - Blackmailed Into Swapping

A sudden surge of shame failed to stem the rising tide of need and passion.

"You may have some doubts right now, honey," Miriam said, and Mavis detected a tone of nebulous threat behind the bright, lively voice,

"but you'll see things my way-and we'll all have a wonderful swinging life. What's better, anyway, than one well-hung hubby, than two or three or four?"

My God! Mavis frowned inwardly. How many different men did Miriam and Connie bed? She may have been a prostitute for a short time, but that was out of necessity. She had never, never considered giving her body to several men-for free! Yet, that seemed to be what Miriam was suggesting.

In the next instant, Mavis was stunned. It was as if Miriam had read her thoughts. "Honey, I know all about those few months right after you graduated from Brigham Young University. Now, don't be ashamed or frightened. Hank found out about it while he was investigating the theft at the jewelry store where you worked-afterwards."

Mavis' entire body felt cold and she thought she was going to faint. My God! Miriam and Henry knew she had been a prostitute! She was speechless. It would just kill her-and Phil-and her marriage if Miriam told other people! Had she told the Quentins? She had never felt such morbid misery in her life. Even her first customer as a young whore hadn't made her feel this remorseful! And she knew she couldn't bluff Miriam that she didn't know what she was talking about. Miriam knew!

"Don't worry, honey. Hank and I understand the circumstances. We know you had to do it-no work and all sorts of financial obligations. Lots of girls and women do it for a lot less reason. Now you cheer up! Let's have another brandy royal. Hank and I have never considered telling anyone else-much less Phil."

Mavis watched the lithe, agile woman rise to replenish their drinks.

Despite Miriam's words of reassurance, she knew her terrible secret wasn't safe with them. It was a club over her head. It virtually made her a captive of Miriam, a lever to compel her to do whatever Miriam wanted to do. And what Miriam wanted to do was introduce her and Phil into a wife-swapping ring. Miriam wanted to have Phil in bed and her to screw Henry.

Mavis' thoughts were in such a turmoil that the coffee and brandy seemed tasteless. This was something she couldn't confide to her husband! For the very thing she would have to tell him was the thing she thought she didn't dare for him to ever find out!

"You have met Terry and Mickey Lewis, haven't you?" Miriam changed the topic of conversation. And Mavis was dully aware of her hostess rising to let the family pet, a well-disciplined boxer, into the house. Vision blurred, she watched the handsome animal trot into the utility room.

She heard him rustling and turning before lying down.

"I know them slightly," Mavis said absently, striving to overcome the shock of having been informed that her neighbors knew she had practiced as a prostitute for a time before marrying Phil.

Returning to her chair, Miriam said, "Connie is having her over tomorrow afternoon. We're going to teach her to play bridge. You play, don't you?"

Mavis nodded vacantly. There had been a standing joke at BYU that bridge was an audit course attended between classes.

"Why don't you join us, honey; it takes four to play."

There was that impish, secretive tone in Miriam's voice again. And Mavis' mind tormented her-play what? A mental picture of Terry Lewis flashed in her mind. She was a small young woman-about five feet, a pixie face and orangish hair. She had been a cheerleader in college.

Someone had said she had married Mickey last June right after graduation from Utah State at Logan.

The initial shock of Miriam revealing she knew all about her past was waning and the alcohol was warming her body, the chill was passing.

Miriam was so casual and nonchalant, evincing no sign of condemnation and consternation that her neighbor had been a prostitute for a short time. There was an aura of warmth about Miriam and this comforted Mavis. The fact that Miriam could twist her and bend her was slipping into the back of her mind.

The brandy was numbing her sense of reality and Miriam had said she and Henry wouldn't reveal her shameful secret. Listening to Miriam's cheerful chatter lulled and soothed her. There was a comfortable air of camaraderie in the kitchen as the two of them sat there, sipping coffee and brandy. Mavis knew she was getting a little drunk, but the deep sense of loneliness was fading. She glanced at Miriam and her mind reminded her-this is the woman who helped you masturbate and gave you such intense pleasure.

And Mavis felt no shame. Instead, a sexy warmth flooded all through her body. Sharp flashes of heat darted up her inner thighs into her crotch and seemed to explode in little boom-booms of miniature rolling thunder deep in her insides, igniting little searing fires that licked through her vagina, from the swollen lips of the vulva into the womb. She glanced across the table at Miriam. "You're a good friend and neighbor, Miriam," she muttered, tongue a little thick, sex channel bubbling and burning with sexual need.

Maybe, her slightly fuzzy mind goaded her, Miriam would help her relieve the passionate, tormenting need. Oh, she didn't want Miriam's husband, her mind seemed to cower. She suppressed a giggle as a naughty little thought flashed. She didn't want the police dick's prick!

Her eyes swung from her coffee cup back to Miriam. Mavis squinted slightly. Miriam seemed unaware that the belt of her shorty housecoat had loosened and the vee at the throat was gaping open dangerously. The lapel folds already had sagged sufficiently that Mavis could see the rich inner surface of the two globes of firm, creamy flesh.

Miriam's eyes seemed slightly feverish as she returned Mavis' glance.

She is aware, Mavis told herself, draining her cup. And her own pulse jumped. She had heard and read about woman-love.

Lesbianism!

Instead of feeling revulsion, she was conscious of leaping excitement.

"Let's fill up our cups again and go in the living room," Miriam said softly, tilting the coffee maker and the bottle of brandy. "Connie should be along pretty soon."

Lightheaded and slightly uncertain on her feet, Mavis followed the slender woman who was about equal to her own five feet six.

As if by subconscious design, Mavis sat down on the plush davenport. If she were going to get any sex fun from Miriam it would be here. She watched Miriam sit across the long cocktail table from her in a swivel rocker. Miriam's housecoat was wrapped looser still and Mavis could almost see the full left breast; a part of the dark aureole that surrounded a pointy nipple was visible. As she crossed her legs, Miriam let the two folds of the robe divide on either side of her sleek, tapering thighs. And Mavis wondered if the hazel-haired woman was as naked from the waist down as she was from the waist up.

Mavis sat for a couple of minutes, knees parted to let Miriam gaze on her panty-swathed crotch, then casually crossed her legs. Inner thigh muscles tensed involuntarily, hugging the ripe mound and thick labia.

She itched with excitement-there-and had to resist the mounting temptation to scratch and rub and fondle.

"It's nearly noon," Miriam pouted. "I wonder where Connie is."

A little drunk and daring, Mavis blurted out, "Probably playing with herself!"

Miriam's laughter tinkled deliciously in the still air of the vast room. "Possibly! Perhaps I should call her again."

Mavis twinged with jealousy at the thought of having a third person there to interfere with possible sex-play between her and Miriam. "Oh, let her be! She'll be along pretty soon-you said so yourself!"

"All right, honey!" Miriam laughed and winked. "Don't you, really, think having the affections of three or four men would be more fun than having to settle for just your hubby, Mavis?"