Grant Roberts: The Reluctant Swappers

She carried the filled glasses back to the unsuspecting art critic and handed him one. She was aware of his hot eyes locked hungrily on her, and she glanced every now and then at the front of his pants. She could see his long, erected cock pulsing there, jumping spasmodically from time to time, pushing his trouser material out briefly, and her wetly throbbing cunt began to flow faster with increased anticipation. The second drink disappeared even more rapidly than the first, as she knew it would, and she quickly poured him another one. He didn't protest at all but drank thirstily from it when she gave him the glass.

Ron felt a warm, relaxed lethargy begin to flow over him. The Pastis was beginning to have an effect on him, he knew that, but the feeling was so pleasant that he really didn't care. It wasn't every day that a man had the opportunity of getting mildly looped with a woman as beautiful, as wildly provocative, as Myra Green.

She was really something, he thought admiringly. She exuded pure animal sex, like a kind of aura encompassing her invisibly as she walked, moved, spoke. What I'd like to do, really like to do, would be to reach out and take her In my arms, kiss her, love her up a little. Oh, not anything more than that, I wouldn't try to fuck her or anything, but Lord it would be nice to kiss those warm red lips and caress those big pillow soft tits and tweak those nipples into rock hardness… to take each one in my mouth and roll it around and around my tongue while I sucked a little…

Ron felt his angrily pulsating cock jerk into instant rigidity, as if it were alive or as if it were a tightly coiled spring held down by a fragile safety latch, straining to whip out with a sudden "twang".

He tried to will it limp again, to banish the obscene thoughts swirling in his mind, but it remained throbbingly blood swollen. Guiltily, his eyes went to Myra's face.

She was looking at the bulge in his pants.

And she was smiling with wetly parted lips and fervid eyes.

"Why, Ron!" she said in mock surprise, mock reproof. "Whatever were you thinking about to have that happen now?"

"I… well, I…" he stuttered, his face a flaming red.

She laughed deep in her throat.

"Myra, I… I'm sorry, it's just that I…" he faltered.

"I know what it is," she whispered. "I know why you have a hard on."

His breath quickened at her lewd words. "You… you do?"

"You have a hard-on because you want to fuck me," she said. "That's right, isn't it, Ron? You do want to fuck me, don't you? You want to stick your nice hard prick into me?"

"Oh God!" he managed to breathe. His massively pulsing pelvis seemed to be about to explode in his pants now, and his brain reeled. Had he heard correctly? Yes, yes, of course he had. But why was she talking to him like that? What was the matter with her? Oh Christ, he could feel his suddenly churning balls begin to ache from the pressure of his gathering sperm; he really needed it, he really did, and Myra talking to him like that wasn't helping matters any. Didn't she know what might happen, mouthing obscene words like that to a man? Didn't she know? He took another long swallow of his Pastis and found that his hand was trembling slightly.

The seductive brunette leaned close to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, like the scorching heat of a white hot firebrand. She touched his knee, lightly, but her fingers seemed to sear right through the cloth.

"Well?" she asked. "Wouldn't you like to fuck me? Wouldn't you really?"

"Myra… Christ, Myra, cut it out! I'm… only human…!"

"And so am I, lover, so am I," she purred on. "My cunt is on fire right now. And the only thing that can put out that fire is a big, hard cock.

You have a big, hard cock, Ron. I can tell you do."

And she reached out and lightly stroked her fingers across the throbbing bulge.

He almost leapt off the couch in a convulsive reaction to the electrical shock of her touch on his painfully throbbing penis, encased within his pants though it was. Myra stroked it gently, tantalizingly, sliding closer to him as he tried to pull back, increasing the rhythm of her caresses. Her firmly ripe breasts pressed softly against his arm, and her moist warm lips found his jaw line, traced a pattern upward along his cheek and then over to search for his open mouth. Her tongue trailed a path of fire along the skin of his face as her hand continued to rub the massively swollen hardness between his legs.

"Myra… please, for Christ's sake!"

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" the undulating seductress repeated, droning the words in an almost mesmeric voice, like a hypnotist practicing her art on an unwilling, but nonetheless hypnotizable, subject. "You want to fuck me, Ron, you want to fuck me."

"No, I… no! Oh Jesus, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

He couldn't help himself. The words tore from his throat, in a strangled kind of whisper that he scarcely recognized, and then his mouth was bending hungrily down against hers, his tongue flailing deep into her moistly heated mouth. Her hand began to move faster over that long bulge in his trousers, and she eagerly sucked and nibbled at his wet quivering tongue, swirling her own tongue around and around his, darting it into his mouth and then drawing it back to accept the onslaught of his probing member. As if with a will of its own, Ron's left hand came up and found her warmly upthrust breast, squeezed and kneaded the flesh momentarily, then dipped inside the orange halter to draw the garment down and away, exposing her nakedly ripe breast with its fiery nipple and dark brown areola. He could feel the seeping hot wetness of the seminal fluid oozing from the pulsating tip of his cock as she continued to massage him with such a practiced thoroughness that he thought the head would surely erupt.

And then, suddenly, with his finger kneading the warmly resilient flesh of her magnificent large breasts, and his long hard cock jerking almost out of control, the full impact of what he was doing struck Ron's mind like a mailed fist.

My God! he thought wildly. No, this is wrong, all wrong, I'm a married man… this is wrong, she's married, too! Jesus… what would Dick Green say? What would Sharon say? What would she say if she saw what was happening right now, my hand on another woman's naked tit and that woman 's hand stroking and rubbing my cock… I can't go through with it, I just can't!

The guilt was so strong within him that he wrenched violently away from Myra, pulling his mouth from hers, turning his body so that her hand left his bulging lap. His face was flushed a brilliant crimson – partially from shame and partially from his intense arousal. He averted his eyes, looking at the far wall, breathing deeply, raggedly.

"What's the matter, lover?" Myra asked casually beside him, and then, with full feminine perception: "You're having an attack of conscience, aren't you? You're thinking about your wife."

"Y-Yes," he managed to answer. "What… what are we doing… what we were leading up to… Christ, Myra, it was crazy, it was all wrong."

"Was it?" she asked.

"Yes… of course…"

"I don't think so," she said.

"Yes… yes."

"You want to fuck me as much as I want you to fuck me," she teased in that droning, sultry voice of hers. "You know it and I know it. So why pretend any different?"

"Jesus, Myra!"

"It's purely a physical matter," she continued. "You want to get into my soft warm pussy, and I want your big old cock inside me. That's all," her lewd words floated across to his mind.

"I… I love my wife!"

"Sure you do. And I love my husband. But that doesn't have anything to do with us, with here and now, with fucking."

No, no, I don't want to hear any more! Ron thought with gathering panic.

It's wrong, it's wrong, but what she says is true in some ways, you don't have to love a woman to want to fuck her… but no, damn it, no, I can't do it!