Chapter 5

I was sicker than hell the next morning at Hope House. The shakes weren't so bad now, but they let me know every so often they were still around.

Janet introduced me to people whose faces were only blurs, except one woman's; she had an intense, patrician face without make-up, and she looked out of place here. Then there was a guy with scars around his eyes and a crooked nose; he was Johnny.

They said things about this being a sickness, that we all had it, and the woman with the cameo face nodded. Her name was Darla, someone said. She wore flat heeled shoes and walked stiffly.

The guy who ran the place was Dan. He was a good talker, spicing his story of his own alcoholism with quips, getting me to nod and to answer until I was unfolding myself to the human warmth of this man. I realized with a sudden shock that he very much resembled my dad.

He wasn't as handsome, not so virile as dad, but there was a certain kinship between these two men who had never seen each other, a peculiar sadness in the wise depth of their eyes, the tilting of a mouth corner, a remembered movement of a hand as it accented a point under examination.

But I didn't want to think of dad; angrily, I shut my eyes and pushed him to the back of my head, with a sinuous, jiggling young woman in a blue silk gown, the newest in a long line of transient mistresses.

It was easier to remember Harry Tanis, to sort out jigsaw pieces of my life with him, dropping them into places I thought had all healed over. Hank and Harry; Lori and me; the four of us became inseparable, going to parties and getting smashed, then coming home and swinging.

It was so damned easy, once the bars were lowered. The things we used to do to each other--like the first time I actually made it with Lori Jorgenson. Before, I had only played around with her while we shared the men, but this time it was different. We were alone in the upstairs bedroom, while the guys were watching the end of a football game downstairs.

She came to me and ran her hands under my sheer robe, cupping my breasts and fingering the nipples. "You have lovely fits, Patti."

"So do you," I said, touching hers in turn.

Lori pushed her svelte body next to mine. "We're so different in coloring, but pretty evenly matched, otherwise. You have longer legs, and I just adore the way your pussy swells out." When she said that, she stroked my mound, and her fingers tingled along the insides of my thighs.

Okay, I figured, if she wanted to play around some before the guys got here, I'd go along with her. Besides, I liked to run my hands over her body, too. She was so soft, yet firm, and her curves were smooth and silken. By mutual consent, we moved over to the bed and stretched out upon it.

My head was already buzzing from what I'd had to drink earlier in the evening, and I felt a little woozy. Before I knew it, Lori was in my arms, fitting her heavy breasts to mine and clamping her mouth to my lips. I parted them so she could slip her tongue inside, and knew a hot flash of sudden lust as our breaths mixed and our teeth raked lightly. Lori's furry vulva was pressed against my own, moving slowly up and down.

My hands trailed over her lush hips, stroking the tender flesh, learning the satin shaping of her ass. She broke our kiss and began to nibble my breasts, rolling the hard nipples around her tongue and teasing the sensitive mounds themselves. She was at my belly then, warm mouth working, her teeth nipping delicately, that enchanted tongue caressing my skin.

I spread my thighs for her and she rubbed her breasts into the torrid resilience of my pussy lips, dragging one nipple at a time across the humid lips. Eyes closed, head back, I gave myself up to the wonder of it, to the passionate probing and the thrills that were somehow forbidden, therefore much better.

But Lori started to turn her body just then, to wheel slowly around so that .her head was down and her sleek legs were near my face. They were beautiful legs, seen so closely, trim and modeled, their skin flawless and polished. Lori's long, golden hair covered my thighs with scented softness. One of her legs lifted to cross over, and my head was boxed in by her rounded and tapered calves. I was a little surprised, but stimulated, too. I had never seen another woman's pussy from so close, and hers was as lovely as the rest of her body.

When I felt the first tentative thrusting of her hot tongue parting my pubic hairs, I just naturally reached up toward hers. Kissing the inside of her thighs, I flicked my own tongue up and tasted her rich cunt hairs. A tremble shook me then, and I clenched the burnished cheeks of her ass in both hands to bury my face eagerly into her crotch.

She tasted of damp flames, of a special kind of womanhood, all wiggly and excited. Lori shoved her tongue deeply into the giving lips of my cunt, and I followed suit, probing into the clinging depths of her vibrant sheath, bathing my questing tongue in the warmly fragrant juices there.

We squirmed together, our faces nuzzled into each other's snatches, licking and groaning in mutual passion shared, sucking thirstily of our flowing oils. I drew her cunt lips into my mouth and turned them inside out, fondling them with my teeth, and when I uncovered her clit, the little darling was throbbing like some furious nubbin. I adored it, teased it, and was very soon rewarded by a spasm there, by a grinding hunch against my face which told me that Lori was coming, that I had already brought her to a deep and gratifying orgasm.

Swinging my hips, I fed my pussy into her suctioning mouth, bucking my crotch against her chin, wiggling and heaving as the terrific feelings built up in my feverish body. She dug her nails into the cheeks of my surging ass and I gasped into the sultry depths of Lori's pussy as I came with a thrilling, violent climax that shook me from head to toe.

That's how our husbands found us, locked together end to end, sighing and moaning in a contentment that threatened to burst again into roaring flames at the slightest erotic movement. I suppose that if they had been straight, average guys, they would have beat hell out of us and filed for divorces. But Harry and Hank weren't average guys, they were swingers who got turned on by just about anything sexually offbeat, and especially by acts their wives participated in.

So they joined us on the bed, and the first I knew of their presence, somebody was kissing the cheeks of my ass, and someone else was nuzzling the back of my neck. Somehow, Lori and I had gotten mixed around, so that I was now on top. She took her face from my crotch, and I lifted from her warmly pulsing body, loath to leave it even for a moment, a new kind of lust boiling through my veins.

I'll say here that I'm now more or less an AC/DC chick, a bisexual ready to make it with either a man or a woman, but I prefer them together, and if it comes down to a choice, I'll take the man every time. There's a special kind of tenderness about swinging with another chick, and it seems that only another woman can truly know all the erogenous places in a woman's body. But when I have a man inside my pussy, when I'm grinding on his strong, meaty cock, there's a marvel there, a maleness that I somehow fight against and always lose, but gladly.

Anyhow, Harry and Hank slowly untangled us from each other, and when Lori and I were on our backs, with our faces still wet with cunt juices, they mounted us. Harry slid his hard cock into Lori, and Hank put his into me.

I was all stirred up from making it with another woman, and rode Hank's good cock with enthusiasm, wiggling upon the sturdy meat as he seesawed it in and out of my steaming cunt. By turning my head, I could watch my husband screwing his wife, see Harry's powerful shaft pumping steadily into Lori's up-tilted pussy with its wealth of golden hairs caressing the slippery pole as it slid into her and out again.

But Hank fooled me. Just as I arched back and lifted my pelvis in a quick orgasm, he pulled his prick out of me and backed off. I blinked up in surprise, until Harry changed places with his buddy, and drove his greasy shaft into the vagina another cock had just left.

The rippling sheath of my cunt closed around his familiar prick, and I squirmed delightedly upon its moving length, feeling the distended head prodding my cervix.

"Two great cunts," Harry breathed hoarsely. "Two beautiful snatches for us to fuck. We're just going to keep changing over until one of us blows off into somebody."

That was all right with me, and I held my husband close as I concentrated upon trying to make him come inside my pussy, as I strained my crotch to his and rolled my ass in sensuously grinding movement calculated to thrill him most. Bracing my feet behind his spread knees, I met him thrust for thrust, wriggling on his good meat and raking the cheeks of his ass with my fingernails.

Shuddering, I hiked my pelvis and bumped it furiously, but Harry didn't come when I did. As my orgasm flashed brightly through my driving pussy, Harry held his shaft deep and waited.

Then it was Hank again, jamming his soapy cock up into my inflamed vagina, sledging it home with a powerful thrust that made me gasp. But the marathon wasn't going to last much longer for the men. Hank rolled me over on top of him and gripped the cheeks of my sweaty ass, burying his cockhead far up my vagina. I bucked on top of him, rolling my ass and rubbing my pelvis into his, feeling his prick touch all the bases, grinding my swollen clit around the base of his rigid meat.

Beside me, Lori cried out: "Oh Harry, Harry, darling--fuck me hard! Slam your wonderful cock into my pussy, Harry. I'm going to come again--again, Harry!"

And my husband answered, "Shake it, baby. Roll that gorgeous ass and eat up my prick with your hot cunt. UH--UH--UH!"

Hank held a grip on my fits now, digging his fingers into them as his body arched and he practically lifted me from the bed with each tremendous stroke. I bounced on his embedded shaft, hammered down on it and twisted it with my pussy. This time, we came together, and I knew the foaming wonder of his semen as it geysered high into my vagina, to spatter the cup of my trembling womb and flood my pulsating hole from end to end. My own orgasm shook me, exploded from my clit and thundered hotly around inside my pussy, snapping my ass-hole tight and just about stopping my heart.

When I climbed off him and his dripping cockhead left a trail of sticky fluid down the inside of my thigh, I didn't even wipe at it. I needed a drink, and walked across the room to find the bottle on the dresser.

As I look back on it now, I can see that liquor was damned as important as sex to me, even then, when I was so young and just beginning to move into a nightmare of unbridled lusts and twisted passions. A few drinks loosened me up, dulled the edges of what used to be my conscience, and made me a fun girl.

I wonder how Harry and Hank found time to do their jobs, they spent so much time with their shared wives. Nights were always an explosion of hot flesh and cold whiskey, telescoping into each other as we did, drunken, squirming, tangled nights that we tried to hold onto by drawing the shades against daylight. Or maybe we were just trying to keep our faces always in the shadow world we had created for ourselves.

Harry was the first to rebel. Not against the situation, mind you, but against the sameness of it, against the beginning boredom of the same women with the same men. It's like that with men like Harry and women like me. We have to keep reaching higher, crawling lower, drinking deeper and running faster. If we ever stand still, there might be time to look at ourselves, and we can't stand that.

So the next step was to look up some other swingers, and Harry did it. I remember the first party we went to, after agreeing among ourselves that it would be for kicks, and that we would probably come back home as we always did.

There were ten others at that house, ranging in age from about fifty to a mere eighteen, young guys, and middle aged men, barely nubile girls and aristocratic matrons. They welcomed us with open arms--and open legs, I might add.

The first rule jolted me. Newcomer wives were to be available to all men in turn. An initiation they called it. It took me four big doubles of bourbon to get my nerve together for that, to take on five men I had never met before, who were total strangers to me. You wouldn't figure that, would you? I mean, here I had been screwing two men and sharing them with Lori. I had been twice married and had another lover besides. Yet I was edgy about just opening my body to strangers I might not even like.

I guess there has always been a secret part of me that is still a little kid, all rosy with romantic illusions and dreaming of the white knight. But I drowned that little girl in strong booze and went upstairs with Lori, each of us turning into our initiation rooms.

The host came to me first, shedding his dressing gown and grinning down at me, his goodly sized cock held loosely in one hand. I felt like a whore greeting a customer, but my only payoff would be any orgasms I might be able to reach myself. Jim Courtney was a big, balding man with gray black hair on his chest and a pot belly. But he was a tender lover, and once I got over the initial shock of his prick feeling up into my pussy, I relaxed and gave him a good fucking, wiggling and surging against him until he let go with a burst of semen that was hot within my trembling vagina.

Next I screwed a kid about eighteen years old; his body was almost hairless, and his prick was thin, but long, with a knobby head that could tickle me in weird places. I don't think I even heard his name, but that didn't matter; he was a prick with a body hung on it.

The third man wanted me on top, and I obliged, fitting his hard shaft into my dripping cunt and jockeying him furiously until he let go his load. The next man was fat and furry as a bear, and he dug his fucking most from the rear, so I swayed on hands and knees, wondering between strokes how my friend Lori was making out in the other room.

Tiring, I still gave the last guy a good ride, locking my legs around his heaving back and squirming, hitting another orgasm of my own when he loosed his stream of foaming juice into my flooded cunt. If I thought I was through, I was crazy. There was still Hank and my own husband. But my fucking was only half-hearted with them; I had been thrilled by so many different cocks, turned on by new movements and reactions, and they were kind of familiar lovers now.

Eyes closed, I slumped in the old chair at Hope House and came slowly back to the whips and jangles, to wanting a drink so damned badly that I would screw for it, suck for it, rob for one long swallow of icy bourbon that would still the moths fluttering in my belly.

Janet said anxiously, "Are you okay?"

"I guess I'll make it," I answered through dry lips, "but I can't guess why."

Solomon-like, Dan sat there and looked at me. "Because you're strong; all alkies are, or none of us would live past our first tries at murdering ourselves. We alkies love ourselves, and try to murder the thing we love most."

Bullshit, I thought. I had never tried to commit suicide.