Chapter 5
The swappers had arrived.
Laughing and joking, they had quickly unpacked their bags and changed into their swimming attire. And now, less than forty-five minutes after their arrival, the eight pleasure-seekers were sitting around the large living room of the Waincotts' estate and chatting merrily.
"Well, what do you think of this place?" Brian Talbot asked, after taking a sip of one of the eight scotch and sodas he had prepared to celebrate the "homecoming."
"It's absolutely beautiful," Claudine Keller answered, her eyes roaming around the elegantly furnished room. "It's got to be at least ten times the size of our apartment."
"Make that fifteen times the size, honey," said James Keller, who was sitting next to his lovely French wife on a long black leather sofa. "This place is really something else."
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Rhonda Talbot said, smiling. "It's a wonder the Waincotts are willing to rent it out every summer. You'd think they'd be afraid of someone damaging all this gorgeous furniture. If it were mine, I doubt that I'd entrust it to my mother."
Brian chuckled. "No wonder, baby. Your mother is a home wrecker par excellence."
"Brian, that isn't at all fair," his wife frowned.
"Well, you've got to admit that she did her damnedest to break us up when we were first married. She doesn't think I'm good enough for you, beautiful."
"Oh, honey, you're exaggerating the whole ... "
"Hey, hold on you two," Christopher Barnet interrupted. "Let's not start our summer with an argument. Besides, the mention of in-laws is not allowed during a homecoming party."
"I'll drink to that, honey," Barbara Barnet said, smiling as she brought her scotch and soda to her lips.
"You'll drink to anything, Babs," Judy laughed, poking her husband, Paul, in the ribs. Paul was perched on the arm of the chair in which his wife was ensconced.
"And speaking of starting the summer," Brian began, "I suggest that to get off on the right foot we have our first orgy immediately. Right here, in the living room."
"Oh my," Rhonda sighed. "If Mr. and Mrs. Waincott only knew."
"Gee, I was planning on a dip in the ocean," Judy said. "You know, to refresh my weary bones after that long car ride out here."
Brian chuckled. "Judy, honey, I love you just as you are. Besides, I've got one healthy bone that'll restore some life to all of your tired ones."
This brought a laugh from all the swingers, including Paul who said, "I second Mr. Talbot's motion. The ocean will always be there for us to enjoy, but right now I'm in the mood to enjoy a warm pussy."
"That's the ticket, Paul," Brian grinned. "You're a man after my own heart."
"Is that agreeable to the both of you?" Barbara asked, looking first at James Keller and then at his wife.
"Fine by me," Jim said, smiling faintly.
"Me, too," Claudine chimed in. "Let's get on with the screwing and the sucking."
Chris smiled broadly. "Now that's the way I like to hear a lady talk. None of that false modesty crap. Tell it like it is-that's my motto. If a woman wants a cock, all she need do is ask for it. Paul promises to deliver."
"Maybe I'm not the lady you think I am," Claudine said softly, smiling her most sexy smile for the good-looking Mr. Allen.
As the other swappers broke into chuckles, James looked intently at his wife. He was more than a bit confused by Claudine's sudden change of heart, finding in her enthusiastic response to Brian's suggestion of a screwing session a curious contradiction of her earlier hesitancy to participate in swapping games.
Why, he wondered, was Claudine so eager to get herself laid by another man when up until a few nights ago her thoughts on the subject of swapping were filled with doubt. He had envisioned his wife entering the world of the spouse-switchers with considerable trepidation, like a bather who gingerly tests the temperature of the water with his toe before plunging in.
But Claudine seemed determined to prove fraudulent the painting which depicted her as a reluctant, hesitant hedonist. And thinking back now, Jim realized that it was in the midst of their most recent argument concerning the merits of mate-trading when his wife's curious "role-reversal" first became evident. He remembered his surprise at her somewhat veiled promise to "make this one summer the swappers will never forget." But he had forgotten her comment minutes after she had made it. Now, however, her words were coming back to haunt him.
"Okay then, folks," Brian said in a loud voice, "everybody on their feet and let's get the show on the road.
"If I had known this," Rhonda said, pushing herself out of a very comfortable modern chair, "I wouldn't have put on my bikini."
"Yes,-likewise," Judy chimed in.
"Oh, come on, girls," Paul grinned. "Stop all this complaining. "You both know you're dying to screw."
Judy and Rhonda exchanged knowing smiles, and then, like the other swingers, began to remove their swim suits. In the next thirty seconds, swim trunks were joining body-hugging bikinis on the living room floor as the eight thrill-seekers denuded themselves in preparation of this initial swap of the long sexy summer.
There was no embarrassment, no shame, six of the group having seen one another in the nude many times in the past. And as far as the Kellers were concerned; Jim, at thirty-four, had long since past the stage when undressing in front of others disturbed him, and Claudine was now fiercely intent on challenging her husband's worldly sophistication.
What would his thoughts be, she wondered, after having spent a full summer watching her get laid repeatedly by three other males. Especially if she threw herself into the wild proceedings with total abandon and without the slightest trace of remorse. How convinced would Jim be of the merits of trading his wife after seeing her time and again respond like some two dollar slut? Would he love her any the less? That was the question Claudine wanted answered.
Three pair of eyes were now taking in Claudine's lush nudity, Paul and Brian and Chris staring at the desirable female whose pussy they had yet to plow. Meanwhile, Barbara and Judy and Rhonda were enjoying a different visual feast, their eyes focusing on Jim Keller's limp but lengthy manhood.
"Beautiful-just beautiful," Paul breathed, taking in the French girl's firm, up-thrust breasts, her smooth, flat tummy, the swell of her hips and taste-tempting tail.
"Boy, I'll say," Judy said abstractedly, her eyes refusing to stray from Jim's eight inch penis. "Blessed are the righteous."
Keller chuckled. "I assure you, Judy, I'm not very righteous."
"The hell with righteousness," the titian-tressed Rhonda grinned. "Just tell us where you purchased that delicious hunk of flesh."
"Would you believe the local meat market?"
"I'm first," Barbara said suddenly, her voice soft but firm. "I mean, you just have to let me try him out first. My cunt is crying for Jim's cock, already.
"Hold on there, honey," Christopher said, at last forcing his gaze away from Claudine. "I guess we'll go about pairing off in the usual manner. Right, Brian?"
"Whatever you say, old man," was Talbot's reply. He was still looking at Claudine, his eyes dining on the mouth-watering French dish, his thoughts unprintable.
"Snap out of it, lover," Rhonda said, smiling wryly. "You were the one who wanted to get things rolling."
At the sound of his wife's voice, Brian came out of his trance-like state and turned his attention to the others. "Right you are, beautiful," he said forcefully. "Paul, will you get the playing cards? I think they're over there in the desk."
"I'll get the straw beach hat," Barbara chirped, moving off into the large kitchen.
Jim Keller looked puzzled. "Beach hat ... playing cards?"
"Sure," the petite, well-proportioned Judy Allen grinned. "How else but by the luck of the draw?"
Within seconds Barbara returned from the kitchen with a beat up old straw hat and Paul returned with the cards. Brian took the hat, held it while Paul dumped the fifty-two cards into the center. Then he began shaking the hat and mixing up the cards.
"Beginning to get the idea, Jim?" Chris asked, as he and the seven other naked swingers crowded around Brian Talbot.
"More or less. It's obvious that we're going to pick cards from the hat."
"Correct," Brian said, smiling. "And it works like this-very simple, really. We all pick a card in turn, and the first two to pick matching cards are screwing partners for the day."
Jim grinned. "What happens if two men..."
"Or two women," a smiling Barbara broke in.
"I knew you'd ask that, Jim," Paul said. "If it happens that members of the same sex select matching cards, we just toss the cards back in the hat and pick again." He paused, then added, "Of course, if sometime during the summer you have the urge to ... well, what I mean is that we have no rules against homosexuality. If you and a consenting partner want to indulge, that's your business."
Barbara smiled at Claudine.
"Let me see if I understand this," the French female said. "We take turns picking cards from the hat, and when a male and female have picked, say for instance a seven, then those two are paired off."
"That's it exactly," Brian smiled. "Simple, isn't it?"
"Yes, very," was Claudine's answer.
Brian gave the large straw hat a final shake, then said, "I think it only fair that Jim and Claudine have first pick. After all, the Kellers are our newest members."
There were smiles and nods of agreement from the other swingers, who watched as Brian stepped to Claudine. Holding the straw hat by the brim, he grinningly suggested she pick a card.
"Any prize for picking an ace?" Claudine asked, winking at Talbot and then casting a quick, cursory glance at her husband.
"No special prize, honey. Just the usual one of a nice thick prick-if a male picks another ace, that is."
Tingling with excitement, Claudine reached into the hat and took a playing card. She turned it over, smiled faintly, and showed it to the others.
"Hey, a deuce," Chris said. "Are deuces wild, Claudine?"
"French girls are," was Claudine's quick answer, bumping her shapely hips in Chris' direction before once again casting a brief glance at Jim.
"Okay, Mr. Keller," Brian said, "it's your turn." He stepped to the well-built Jim, whose long, dangling cock was still drawing stares of admiration from Judy, Barbara and Rhonda, and held the hat in front of him.
"Jack of clubs," Jim said, after he had picked.
Judy grinned. "A jack for a good-looking, well-hung jock. Most apropos, I'd say."
"Too bad these damn cards aren't marked," the red-headed Rhonda smilingly remarked.
Brian grinned and stepped to his wife. "All right, Mrs. Hornier Than Thou of 1971, see if you can pick another jack."
"Sometimes I wish you were a bit more jealous, darling," Rhonda said, dipping into the hat and pulling out ... a jack of diamonds. "Wow! I did it-on the first try. How 'bout that?"
"Some gals have all the luck," Judy frowned.
"Take heart, honey," her husband grinned, draping his arm over her shoulder. "The summer is long and you'll have your chance with Jim's big pecker."
Christopher Barnet picked next, and then his shapely blonde wife, Barbara. The Aliens, Paul and Judy, followed, and then Rhonda held the hat while her husband picked a card. It took five more rounds of picking cards before the match-ups for the day were settled.
The luck of the draw had paired the browned-haired Judy with Christopher Barnet, Brian Talbot with the lissome Claudine, Barbara with Paul Allen, and, of course, titian-tressed Rhonda with the well-hung James Keller.
After a few minutes of small talk mixed with laughs, the couples moved off to find a convenient spot to screw. Judy and Chris wound up on the long sofa, Brian and Claudine selected the bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace, Paul and Barbara chose a comfortable armchair, and Rhonda led James to one corner of the living room, where sat a huge leather hassock.
"This place is really very large, Jim," the luscious, sultry-voiced Rhonda said, as she planted her plush posterior on the large hassock. "It has two upstairs bedrooms, you know, and if you think you'd be more comfortable ... "
"Right here is just fine, Rhonda," Jim smiled, looking down at the succulent redhead. "This way we can watch the others fuck."
"Yes, I agree. It does add something when all around you are screwing up a storm. My one real goal in life is to participate in a massive orgy-a real wing-ding of a screwing party."
Jim chuckled. "Well, that's as good a goal as any, I guess."
Rhonda smiled, her eyes wandering from Jim's attractive face to his hairy chest, down his hard, flat stomach to the nest of dark pubic hairs surrounding his large manhood. Her slender hands drifted up, one going to his still limp tool, the other slipping between his thighs to cup his large scrotal sac.
"My husband says I'm an excellent fellatrice, Jim," she said, her eyes devouring his genitals. "Let's see what you think."
And with that, the blatantly beautiful Mrs. Talbot commenced proving her cocksucking abilities, her experienced tongue snaking out of her mouth as she brought her face to Jim's loins. With the fingers of one hand she held his cock aside, the better to feast at will on his hairy balls.
Her talented tongue began to tease Jim's testicles, to poke and jab at that wrinkled pouch of flesh as if it were a tiny punching bag. She licked like one lapping up a ball of ice cream, working first one tasty testicle into her hungry mouth and munching gently, then after a while releasing it to stuff the other sex ball into her oral cavity.
Jim placed his strong hands on Rhonda's head. The redheaded vixen needed no guidance, no direction of any sort. But Jim knew full well that it would take less than a minute of such maddening pleasure to stiffen his prick, to have him trembling and weak-knead with a fiery lust.
As Rhonda released his scrotal sac, began stuffing his limp organ into her mouth, he turned his head in the direction of the brick fireplace. There was his wife, on the bearskin rug, her sleek legs splayed wide in lewd invitation to the man who crouched between them, his handsome face mashed hotly against Claudine's love nest.
"Brian ... ohh, Brian," she breathed passionately. "What are you do. . . ing!" Claudine's eyes were closed, her raven-tresses fanning her beautiful face as she rocked her head side to side and willingly endured the tantalizing tongue of Mr. Talbot.
"I'm chewing on your cunt, princess," was Brian's throaty reply. "Your pretty and delicious cunt."
"More. Do it more. I love it, Brian."
Claudine lifted her hips in wanton welcome, her face screwing up into a look of pleasure when Brian opened her dewy sex lips with his thick thumbs and drove his teasing tongue into her cunt.
And it wasn't long before the talented Mr. Talbot was munching like a madman on Mrs. Keller's wetting snatch, using his tongue like a scoop and slurping up the lubricating juices which were dribbling from her warming sex oven. And in the process, driving the delectable French female crazy for a sizzling fucking.
Jim turned from the sight of his lovely wife being eaten, his gaze now coming to rest on Judy Allen and Christopher Barnet, who were lost in a world of their own on the long sofa. Judy was lying, or rather squirming on her back, her arms wrapped around the back of the man who had seconds ago plunged his meaty spear into her palpitating pussy.
"That's the way, Chris, honey,"' she was moaning. "Give me all you've got, baby. Fuck the shit out of me."
"You're still the same Judy," Chris panted. "Always ready for a prick in your tight twat."
"Is that bad, lover?"
"Bad? It's delicious, baby. Delicious."
"Do me then, stud," Judy breathed hotly. "Pound me into the fucking sofa with your fat cock. Ream my tight twat for me."
Jim's eyes left the salacious scene being played out on the sofa, lowered to take in the equally licentious sight of Rhonda Talbot sucking on his cock. The redhead was now working on a very stiff and very long prick, finding this particular act of fellatio almost an ordeal because of the great size of Jim's manhood. But an ordeal she would most willingly undergo at any hour of the day or night.
"You are good, baby," Jim said, his voice becoming increasingly thick, the words stumbling from his mouth. "One of the best cocksuckers to ever go down on me."
The compliment was like music to Rhonda's ears, inspiring her to perform orally as she never had previously, to, make of this cocksucking a lust-provoking memory that would long be cherished by both herself and Jim Keller.
Eyes closed, lips pursed around the man's throbbing tool, Rhonda sucked as if this were the last and not the first time she would be treated to the taste of Jim's eight inch organ. Her lips slid quickly up and down the long spear of flesh, teeth scraping over the tiny valleys and ridges.
"Yeah, beautiful," Jim grunted. "Suck it fast and hard. Gobble my cock all up, you luscious wench."
"Argh-uhh," was the animalistic, totally unintelligible sound that came struggling out of Rhonda's prick-packed mouth.
"Don't talk, baby. Just suck like a good girl."
Jim was determined to ignore his wife and Brian Talbot, to allow the moans of passion she was now emitting to fall on deaf ears. He realized that this was only the first of what would be many such sex parties, and that he'd have to get used to seeing Claudine in the throes of a sizzling, all-consuming lust. Yet he could not help but wonder if the decision to join the merry mate-traders hadn't been arrived at too hastily. Perhaps his idea that Claudine could learn from the experienced switchers was, as she had often argued, ridiculous in the extreme.
In any event, he found himself less sure of the merits of wife-swapping-at least as far as Claudine was concerned. Her obvious enjoyment of Brian's oral ministrations, her continuous moans and groans of sheer pleasure, were downright disquieting. To say the least.
Two who found Claudine's whimpered pleas for a mind-numbing cunt-licking enjoyable were Barbara Barnet and Paul Allen, both of whom were savoring the pleasures of a slow but thrilling ass fuck.
The blonde Barbara was draped over the back of the large armchair, her hands clamped hotly around the arms of the chair as her up-thrust bottom received Paul's pleasurable plunges. From where they were screwing they had an unobstructed view of the other coupled couples.
"Claudine's gettin' a charge out of Brian," Paul was saying, stating the very obvious to no one in particular.
Barbara lifted her head. "That's good," she said softly, breathlessly. "The first swapping orgy is an important one. It serves to kill the inhibitions and..."
"Inhibitions? Claudine doesn't strike me as being inhibited."
"Could all be a lie, Paul. I mean ... oooo, you do know how to ream a gal's rectum, honey. I swear that cock of yours has eyes, Mr. Allen. You sure ... mmmm, that's nice ... you sure know your way around an ass-hole."
Paul chuckled. "You mean in an ass-hole, don't you? Anyway, what were you saying about Claudine?"
"Fuck Claudine," Barbara sighed. "Just keep plowing my shitty rectum. And pick up the pace a little, will you?"
"No, I'm interested, baby. You think maybe Mrs. Keller isn't as eager to swap as she pretends."
"Could be. Maybe she's just trying to impress us with her sophistication. Maybe-oh, who the hell cares, Paul? I just care about your thick prick plunging into my ass. Now do as I said-start banging it in there faster and harder. I-owwww!"
"That what you had in mind, sugar?"
"Yesss," Barbara hissed, her blonde hair shielding her face as she looked down into the armchair cushion. "But you don't have to get sadistic, lover. I like it rough but don't break the fucking thing off in my rectum."
Paul chuckled loudly, then began to boom his turgid tool up into Barbara's shapely bottom with greater force and speed, his hairy thighs slapping the backs of her smooth ones as he repeatedly scoured her shit-chute with his hard-thrusting cock.
"Yeah, that's what I like, lover," the blonde beauty mewled. "Fuck it deep and hard. Bang that big cock into my filthy behind."
"Wait until Keller corn-holes you, baby," Paul huffed, grinding his lean middle into Barbara's fanny and flexing his besmirched bone in her rectal cavity. "Bet you'll be screamin' for mercy."
"I shit bricks," Barbara spat, in answer to her corn-holer's implication that her narrow nether canal would experience difficulty in harboring an eight inch hard-on.
The eight incher in question was about to explode, the creamy seed about to streak through its jaw-stretching length and drench Rhonda's wildly sucking mouth.
"I'm coming, you bitch," Jim growled, his fingers digging into Rhonda's scalp. "Drink it down-all of it."
The titian-tressed bobbed her head violently, vacuumed Jim's about-to-burst bone into her mouth with demonic frenzy. Only when the first of his seed spurted forth did she stop all movement and concentrated on swallowing the sticky come.
Jim emitted a strangled moan of pleasure and shoved his hips forward, seemingly intent on puncturing the back of the redhead's throat with his ejaculating cock. The love fluid streamed from the tip of his shuddering shaft and splashed against Rhonda's throat.
Rhonda did her damnedest to swallow it all, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically up and down as Jim's viscous semen inundated her mouth. But her feverish labors proved futile, much of Keller's come spitting out around the corners of her semen-coated lips.
The creamy substance dribbled down her chin, droplets of love fluid dripping onto her heaving breasts and trickling down to her blood-gorged nipples. Disappointed but not discouraged Rhonda continued to swallow like one demented, at times gagging and choking but determined to ingurgitate as much of Jim's come as was possible.
Meanwhile, on the bearskin rug, Claudine was announcing the onset of her orgasm in a shattery, high-pitched wail of pleasure. Brian's incessant chewing and licking of her sticky snatch had elicited from the passion-dazed female a flow of vulgar exhortations.
And now she was coming, the peak of passion having at last been attained after a most delicious climb. In intensity and duration it was not the kind of climax she often experienced when Jim was spilling his seed in her fluttering cunt, but it was highly satisfactory, nonetheless.
In fact, her orgasm's strength surprised her. Never had she sucked her husband's manhood and rare were the times she had allowed him to feast on her pussy, so oral sex was almost foreign to Claudine. But Brian's skilled, probing tongue had turned her inside out and now she was shuddering through an orgasm which, as good as it was, would trigger a desire to have more than a tongue pistoning in her twat.
"Ughh ... Arhh..." Claudine moaned, arching her back off the bearskin rug and clutching at the air with her hands. Her flushed face was screwed up with a mask of keen pleasure, those fantastically good fluttery spasms rippling up her spine and catapulting her into a world of sheer sensation.
But Brian was not yet ready to cease his lewd slurping at the Frenchwoman's leaking cunt. His mouth was still glued to Claudine's pussy, his thick tongue still pistoning. It was as if Brian Talbot and Claudine Keller had been cemented and were nevermore to be separate individuals.
Brian was on his knees, bent forward slightly, his hot hands under Claudine's trembling tail. He was holding her up, forcing her exquisitely proportioned body into an almost painful arc. And he was grinding his handsome face into her steaming snatch, rubbing his nose against her pulpy love lips while with his tongue he slurped up her passion product.
Only when Claudine had quieted, when the final spasm of pleasure had rippled through her warm, happy body, did Talbot relax his hold and allow the French female to drop back to the bearskin rug. Then, without delay, he shuffled forward on his knees and directed his bloated bone on target.
"Now you're going to get fucked, baby," Brian rasped, his thick lips coated with Claudine's flowing excitement.
"Yes. Fuck me, Brian. Screw me senseless, honey."
The sight of the ravishing, raven-tressed female squirming on the white rug, asking for her boffing, triggered in Talbot an unholy urge to bury his aching, blood-gorged cock to the hilt in her weeping womanhood.
Which is exactly what he did. Wanting the deepest penetration possible, Brian grabbed hold of Claudine's well-molded calves and began drawing her legs up and back, forcing her bended knees back against her beautiful boobs.
"No ... no, I don't think ... " was Claudine's meek protest.
"I want you to really feel it, baby. Every last inch of my hot cock is goin' to be buried in your pretty pussy."
"But you'll hurt-ooomphh!" The breath whooshed from Claudine's lungs when Brian suddenly dropped down onto her, at the same time thrusting forward with his hard hips and burying his pulsing prick in her viscid vagina.
Immediately he began to pump his bloated bone, his hairy balls time and again slapping up against Claudine's puckered ass-hole as he plunged, withdrew, plunged, withdrew, plunged again. Each torrid thrust of his thick cock into her leaking cunt elicited from the woman squeals of delight, her surprise at his sudden insertion replaced by a feeling of utter sensuality, of wanton lust.
The position they were in had more than a little to do with the gut-jumbling sense of helplessness now suffusing Claudine.
She was almost doubled over, her knees mashed against her tingling tits and her calves resting on Brian's sturdy shoulders. She felt open and vulnerable, her pussy totally exposed. It was a shameful position to be in, Claudine's passion-befogged mind told her. But she was unable to deny the fact that Brian was thrilling her with his fierce plunges.
"Feel it, baby?" Brian huffed.
"Yesss," Claudine hissed. "Ohh, golly, yesss ... "
"Deep, huh? Good and deep."
"Ugh ... so deep ... so hard. It's filling me up, Brian."
"Want more, baby?"
"Yes. More. Much, much more."
So engrossed in the forceful fucking were they, that neither Brian nor his partner heard Judy Allen's demented wails of sheer lust. She was nearing the end of her ride to paradise, the joyful trip to nirvana culminating now in a most intense climax.
Still on her back on the long leather sofa, arms and legs wrapped around the happily humping Christopher Barnet, Judy was moaning and groaning as if her suffering were acute, painful beyond belief. The exact opposite was true, of course.
Bolts of unbelievable ecstasy flashed to her brain as she and her picked partner, Chris, traveled together through a wind storm of pleasure, the two swappers having arrived at the plateau of bliss at precisely the same time-a simultaneous orgasm.
And how sweet it was, this feat that is not often accomplished without considerable cooperation between partners who know each other's body very well. But it had happened to Judy and Chris, on this their very first screw of the summer.
And they were reveling in their accomplishment, wallowing like pigs in a mud bath. Gasping and groaning, clutching each other with all their might, Mrs. Allen and Mr. Barnet shuddered through their respective releases, each knowing but not caring that this fantastically potent pleasure, this gut-jumbling exercise in ecstasy, would be damn difficult to duplicate in the weeks to come.
Not very far away, over there on the large armchair, a lust-drenched Barbara Barnet was preparing to receive Paul Allen's copious discharge in her quivering fanny.
"I want it, I want it, I want it," she was chanting, her lush body still draped over the back of the armchair, her succulent posterior still being buffeted by Paul's plunging prick.
"Where, baby?" Paul rasped. "Tell me where."
"In my ass," Barbara groaned, her golden-tresses whipping her face as she tossed her head side to side and up and down. "Cream in my shitty bottom, you hot fucker!"
"You cock-loving cunt!" Paul shouted back.
"Screw it deep, bastard!" was the beautiful blonde's passionate plea. "Drive that dirty dick up my bowels."
"Prick-crazy slut!" Paul yelled, smashing still another time into Barbara's plush bottom, his pile-driving cock expanding the constricting walls of her clinging shit-chute.
"Bastard!" Barbara spat, tears of happiness sliding down her flushed face.
In the throes of an unearthly lust, their hot, trembling, sweat-soaked bodies honed to a fine edge of pleasure, Paul and Barbara continued to hurl epithets at each other. With demonic glee did they shout out the vulgar invectives, the four name-calling serving only to heighten their already very tall concupiscence.
Over and over again Paul Allen boomed his besmirched cock up into a grunting, groaning Mrs. Barnet. He drove his dirty dick to the depths of her foul bowels, seemingly intent on poking a hole in her belly with his punching, plunging prick.
Each pulverizing thrust into her trembling tail was punctuated with a vulgar expletive, as Paul plunged beyond the pale, and now, searched his passion-drenched mind for those gutter words with which to describe the mind-shattering sensations now coursing through him.
And Barbara, who was very impatiently awaiting that most blissful moment when her corn-holer would come, countered each of Paul's passionately-voiced vulgarisms with an appropriately obscene one of her own.
But then it happened, all hell breaking loose as Paul emitted an unholy moan of lust and sent his seed rushing into the lovely blonde's hot, clasping rectum.
"Arhhh ... owwww..." Barbara groaned, gripping the arms of the armchair tightly when she felt Paul's warm sex fluid spurt into her backside.
"Take it, bitch," Paul shouted, the words tumbling from his lips as he shuddered through a most intense orgasm, his lean body trembling from head to toe.
"Good ... so good," Barbara whined, squeezing her rectal muscles around the ejaculating cock, looking for all the world like one who loathed having her rectum stuffed with hot cock, when, in truth, she considered a heinie-humping a most delicious way to start a summer of sexual shenanigans.
And back on the big hassock, a very pleased Mrs. Talbot was tidying up, her sperm-coated lips moving lazily, lovingly, all around Jim Keller's cock and balls in an attempt to return his genitals to a pristine sparkle.
"You do love to eat it, don't you?" Jim asked, a small smile on his handsome face.
"Mmmmmm ... I love it," Rhonda answered, between licks of Jim's limp, now sorry-looking penis. "Especially when ... when I have a real ... big prick to chew on."
Keller ran his fingers through Rhonda's long flaming hair as she continued to swab his privates with her stroking tongue and softly sucking lips. He turned his head, once again caught sight of his wife trapped in primeval passion.
There she was, almost rolled up into a ball, Brian Talbot fucking holy hell out of her as she pleaded for more and more of his bone-crunching thrusts into her very vulnerable pussy.
This, then, was the beginning of a long, hot summer for eight hump-happy swappers, seven of whom were absolutely convinced that it was going to be a simply smashing season.