unknoun: Swap Night

"Clay, darling, are you here?" Nina asked softly.

"Yes, baby, hang on for a second."

The tape was wound into the machine now and the figures were clearly visible and identifiable. He opened the door to admit his wife.

Nina was carrying a shaker of martinis and two glasses. Clay gratefully accepted one from her and kissed his wife full on the lips. He could smell the alcohol on her breath and he knew that she had quite a headstart on him.

"Just what the doctor ordered," he said looking over her trim figure.

She was clad in a pair of french cut beige gabardine pants and a pure silk beige silk shirt tied under her breasts and left unbuttoned sufficiently to reveal the cleavage fully exposed and the upper surfaces of her upthrusting breasts swelling out provocatively. There was no underwear line visible under the blouse or the slacks.

The wealthy man sipped appreciatively at the martini, as he gazed at his exotic wife, a slightly suggestive leer beginning to form around his mouth.

"Dry enough for you, darling?" she asked.

"Terrific, just like you." He reached out a hand to her and cupped a breast in his strong fingers. It was as he had hoped. She was not wearing a bra under her shirt. He felt the beginnings of arousal.

"Did you miss your little wife, Clay?" She pulled away from him and modeled the outfit she was wearing, striking an obscene pose at the end of the demonstration, her hips pulled forward, her arms back, causing her breasts to strain for release from her blouse. Then she undulated her hips, sensually, suggestively, performing a sexually exciting dance just for him.

"Did I…? Christ, do you want me to fuck you right here in the screening room?" His eyes were glazing over with lust.

"Actually I prefer the bearskin in the living room… but I'm not particular, darling," she teased.

Nina took a sip from her martini and suddenly she noticed that there was something on the screen. "Well, Fellini, what do we have here?" she asked him.

"Oh, these are my new stars," he said. "You know how I like my little cinema verite."

Nina laughed and walked closer to the giant screen. "Why, Clay this is really exceptional. Who's the woman?"

"She's working part-time in the pro shop. She's David Dunn's wife. Her name's Sally. Sweet little Sally."

"Sally the sweet little cocksucker," Nina corrected and just look at that hunk of meat she's got in her mouth. Isn't that Eddie Frampton she's sucking off?" she asked a salacious grin curling around the comers of her lips.

"That's him. The whole package."

Nina continued watching the action on the screen. "Baby, is he hung, to say the least."

Clay Marsdale looked at his wife, shrewdly. "You like that piece of meat, huh, baby?"

"And how. I'm getting wet just looking at it," the Oriental woman said lewdly.

"I thought you would," he said very sure of himself. "How'd you like to sample it?"

"No samples. I want the full meal!" she exclaimed.

"All right, my darling, he's all yours. I'm going to have them over Saturday night for cocktails."

Nina was not at all surprised. "Them?" she asked. "You're not going to invite them?"

"Of course, them. it's a package deal, darling. I don't want one without the other."

"You don't know her too well, do you?" Nina asked her voice pointedly sarcastic.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We had a little talk this afternoon and apparently little Ms. Mary Mormon thinks fucking is disgusting or against nature or something.

She's really a goddamn little prude. Getting her to swap, Clay, is going to be a major undertaking."

"I dare say I can warm her up a little. I probably have a lot more experience than that stud husband of hers."

"I'm sure you can, dear," Nina said distractedly. "I'm going to make another shaker of martinis and then I want to see what a stud I'm married to. Don't go away, lover." Nina left the screening room swishing her hips at him, provocatively.

He gave her a playful slap on the ass, grabbing at the firm flesh for good measure. "Oh, does my little wife, want to indulge in unnatural behavior this evening?"

"Bet your ass, I do," she said closing the door.

Clay waited a few minutes and when Nina didn't return he knew that she was probably playing one of her little games where she wanted him to go in search of her.

The wealthy husband chuckled to himself. This is what kept life interesting, exciting and adventurous. He never knew where Nina would choose to have their little sexual bouts. Clay had had hundreds of women in his lifetime but had always become bored after a while with each but with Nina there was no possibility of boredom. It was almost as if the Oriental woman had been schooled in the ways of delighting a man and indeed she had in her native Taiwan.

Clay eagerly began walking from room to room in the well-equipped mansion. At last, he heard music in the large room where they usually entertained. The room was done in Italian provincial and as he entered he saw the lights had been dimmed and at first he didn't see his small wife. Usually they chose to hear classical music in this room because it seemed to go with the mood and decoration of the room but tonight Nina had put on a grinding disco record and when he caught sight of her his heart began to beat harder.

In the middle of the room was an imported Italian marble fountain around which were placed statues caned by a master carver from Florence. The statues were in the style of the "David" and all the genitals were executed to scale. Nina was entwined with the white marble statue and she was doing a quick bumping dance, rubbing her female loins, obscenely, against the cold lifelike genitals of the statue.

"So, you're two-timing me, again!" he said jovially.

"The martini shaker is on the table. Pour them will you darling?" she asked her voice low and throaty.

He went over and poured the fresh drinks, taking a seat to watch his wife's lewd entertainment. ›From experience she knew that she had his full attention now and suddenly she leaped on top of their heavy glass coffee table where she threw herself with abandon into a wild lewdly exciting dance, her hips moving in circles and the muscles of her belly rippling and undulating in time to the driving disco beat.

Marsdale watched his tiny Oriental wife with fascination. She was a superb dancer and he marveled at her muscular control, the sensuousness of her movements and her projected sexuality that never failed to arouse him. She had kept up with her dancing even after their marriage.

He felt the familiar crawling, tensing sensation in his scrotum and the rush of throbbingly hot blood into his penis, as it began to rise to erection under his tennis gear that he had not changed yet since his arrival home. He wanted to rip off his sports clothes, grab her and lay her on the glass coffee table, but he had found long ago that it was better to play her game.

When she was ready she would let him know. He must wait for her, and he had learned to wait, to reap the benefits of the waiting in heightened enjoyment for both of them.

She ended her dance and Nina Marsdale slid lithely from the glass topped table, casting about an eye for her drink. And then she came to him. Insinuating her narrow hips between his legs, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him, long, hard and deep, using her tongue to probe and titillate. After some moments, she broke the hiss and trailed her tongue across his jowls to his ear.

Her tongue lashed out, the tip of it drilling into his ear and running in little circles around it.

She whispered, "My darling, Clay."

The older man set his drink down on the bar and reached for her, grabbing a churning buttock in each hand, he pulled, roughly, to his hardening prick, letting her feel the warmth and stiffness of him.