Chapter 2
THE WALLS OF THE LARGE BEDROOM HAD COST the Dcnnings a pretty penny. They'd had mirrors fastened onto the original expensive paneling, extending from the very soft and very thick carpet all the way up to the tastefully decorated ceiling. Directly over the bed, also fastened securely and at considerable expense, there was a mirror several feet larger than the huge bed.
Six persons could stretch out side by side on the enormous mattress without even touching, if they so wished to waste the large sexual playing field, and at several of the wilder parties, as many as eight had taken advantage of the bouncy firmness at the same time.
When Floyd Denning entered the mirrored bedroom, feeling the effects of the second straight shot of Scotch in what he considered to be just the right degree, the naked young maid was helping his wife disrobe. This undressing process had progressed to the point where Betty Denning was wearing only brief pink panties and an equally brief pink brassiere.
Betty was very proud of her breasts. And rightly so, Floyd thought. The twin mounds were high and firm, on the smaller side and yet large enough for anybody to enjoy fondling and feasting upon, and Betty was walking proof that smaller breasts were less apt to sag with time. Actually, Betty still had the figure of a very young girl. A robust female body from the waist down, true, but her white flesh was as smooth and wrinkle-free as any female of any age Floyd had ever seen or had.
The skimpy bra was removed and tossed aside-by Betty-Floyd let his gaze drop down and remain upon the kneeling brown girl. Thelma Washington's lush flesh was very dark brown, the color and her fine features causing Floyd to believe that there'd been at least one male or female Caucasian grandparent, and aside from her truly beautiful body he liked her for her carefree attitude pertaining to everything having to do with sex.
She somehow made him think of the South Sea Island girls he'd read about. The way they'd lived and loved before they'd been taught about sin by the pleasure-haters-and she'd told enough about her background to cause him to sometimes wonder how the girl had ever managed to retain her sense of beauty where all things having to do with sex was concerned.
She'd been broken in by her stepfather at a very tender age, been used and abused in all manner of ways by the tough youngsters, and oldsters, in a rough and tough neighborhood shortly afterward, and yet to her all the various erotic activities had been, and had remained, fun-filled and pleasurable.
Many girls under the same circumstances, Floyd knew, would've turned against men and sex, and yet Thelma still liked all men, including her stepfather and her horny older stepbrother, and had added all the various acts of Lesbianism to her seemingly never-ending search for sexual pleasures. And, what was even more important-to Floyd and to Betty-the giving was just as important to Thelma as the receiving.
Thelma's fingers were already hooked under the narrow waistband of Betty's brief panties, her brown cheek resting against Betty's white thighs. Floyd knew that they were stalling while waiting for him; just as he knew that they sensed his presence even before Betty glanced at him and smiled, then wriggled her full hips and buttocks as Thelma quickly peeled the thin obstacle down to the dark red carpet.
Betty stepped out of the panties, playfully kicked them aside, and then just as playfully backed away from Thelma's clutching fingers. Floyd walked over and perched his behind on a straight-backed chair, enjoying the many reflections in the mirrors, as Betty scampered for the giant bed and Thelma got to her feet and scampered in hot pursuit.
This was all part of the routine the two dazzling females had developed over a period of several months; a part of their erotic performance to see if they could excite Floyd enough so that his manhood would become hard enough for him to join the action without being touched.
So far he hadn't failed. Or his maleness hadn't. On those few occasions when he'd remained mentally excited for a second session there'd been plenty of stimulating help from skillful fingers and eager lips, of course, but he'd discovered long before that even in exercising complete sexual freedom many habits were formed and carried out without any real logical reason.
Watching as Thelma sucked upon Betty's nipples, one elongated tip and then the other, her beautiful brown buttocks lifted high, Floyd felt his manhood beginning to respond. He'd never seen Betty kiss Thelma on the mouth; nor any other female below the waist. He and Betty had discussed her fear of getting hooked on the gay stuff if she ever went the whole route-and the first time he'd seen her kiss one of the swapping wives on the mouth, he'd felt that it was only a matter of time before his hot wife did give way to her curiosity and go all the way.
Strangely enough, this didn't worry Floyd very much. Most of the female sex club members had given way to their curiosity or whatever, and despite all the stories he'd read and heard concerning the matter, he didn't know of one wife being ruined for her husband or for any other man by such an experience.
He did know of several women who never missed an opportunity to bestow the intimate kisses and caresses upon another woman, but the husbands he'd talked to about it had no complaints-and he'd never been able to detect any difference with the many bisexual wives he'd had.
By this time Thelma had trailed her parted lips and darting tongue down to Betty's quivering belly. Glancing in the mirror above the bed, really trying to see all the exciting action at the same time-no matter if he had discovered long before that it was an impossibility-Floyd saw that Betty was also observing the reflected action from the various angles.
Thelma quickly skirted around the dark triangle, her long brown fingers clasping Betty's slowly writhing hips, her blazing black eyes lifting just long enough to see that Floyd hadn't started to undress before she started kissing Betty's rounded thighs.
Floyd's passion had been soaring, causing him to have an almost complete erection, but he wasn't in any hurry. He knew that Thelma first liked for Betty to turn over on her stomach, which his heated wife was suddenly doing with the equally heated colored girl's help, and only then did he get to his feet.
He'd always been fascinated by Thelma's rather unusual desire to kiss and caress buttocks, and he moved forward for a closer view. There wasn't any doubt about the truth that Thelma was enjoying herself tremendously; just as there wasn't any doubt about Betty's receiving thrilling enjoyment from the strange form of erotic worship.
His writhing wife's fingers were clutching the sheet-covered mattress, she was surging her lovely bottom upward to the jabbing caress, moaning and gasping out unintelligible words all the while, and at this point Floyd began coming out of his clothes. By the time he'd completed that task, stumbling around a great deal while so doing, Betty had flipped over on her back and Thelma's face was buried at the juncture of the white thighs.
"Save some of that for me!" Betty said excitedly, gazing at Floyd's total arousal, but not stopping her lurching movements to Thelma's lavish attentions or ceasing her clutching at Thelma's curly black hair. "Geezus! I've already make it once and I'm just about to make it again!" Betty arched her body, tensed, and dug her fingernails into Thelma's bobbing scalp. "Oh, Awww-"
Floyd quickly climbed onto the bed and positioned himself directly behind Thelma's eagerly uplifted sleek brown buttocks. Betty was temporarily lax, her passion-filmed dark eyes flicking from reflection to reflection in the many mirrors, her fingers still holding the willing Thelma firmly in place.
One of Thelma's hands slipped out from underneath Betty's buttocks and she reached back to help with the guiding. This was standard procedure, as Floyd had discovered that he didn't particularly care for the far more snug harbor so willingly offered and preferred to take advantage of the eager willingness only as a last resort.
Which just might turn out to be the case during the present session, he thought, going along with the smooth and strangely cool fingers. Because he could already sense that he'd had just the right amount of liquor to enable him to retain his hardness for a considerable length of time-and maybe enough to turn it into something of a problem as far as reaching his own blasting climax was concerned.
Floyd wasn't a giant among men. He was tall and lean, almost skinny, and his organ was about average, but he knew that he didn't have any reason for embarrassment because of his size. He'd discovered fairly early in life that how a man performed-and understood a woman's desires-was usually of far greater importance than simply depending upon bulk and jamming that bulk to give pleasure.
He entered slowly and Thelma's engulfing warmth was just as sensational as always, clamping to and around his hardness as he shoved and slipped it deeper and deeper. He was gripping the full and satiny hips with his fingers and was unable to suppress a little groan when the very hot moist inner flesh began to quiver as he started his slow and rhythmic thrusts.
Betty began squirming once again under Thelma's renewed stimulating delving, returned her fingers to the curly black hair, and while glancing into the many mirrors told Floyd that she got a big bang out of observing the reflected motions.
Floyd looked and also got a big bang out of the many views, but he didn't say anything, knowing that Betty was only talking to try and slow down her own rush to fulfillment. He'd had to do much the same in his younger days or years, concentrating on prolonging the pleasure as most young men had to do, but Betty was among the very few women he'd ever known to faithfully follow such a routine.
And that had only started shortly before she'd reached the age of thirty. Before that, especially between twenty-two and around twenty-eight, she'd had one hell of a time reaching a climax without deliberately concentrating upon doing so. She'd been rather cold most of the time, really, and he'd used that as an excuse to seek out and screw other willing women.
Then, seeming to prove the so-called authorities right about females not reaching their sexual peak until around twenty-nine, Betty had slowly but surely blossomed into what had to be considered at least a border-line nympho. They'd met another married couple at about that time, however, who'd introduced them to a group of swinging swappers, and they'd adjusted to their new way of married life easily enough.
They had at first, at least. Lately it seemed more and more as if Betty was turning into some kind of a kooky sex-nut, and he had to have more and more of the fancy frills to be able to perform. Unless he could get at a completely new attractive female, like the stacked beauty in the apartment across the hall, and when he could do that it seemed that somehow the clock or calendar was turned back to his younger years-
"Shift, Floyd!" Betty suddenly exclaimed loudly, almost shouting. "I'm just about there and I want you inside me! Hurry!"
Floyd did hurry. As did Thelma. He pulled out and back, using his hands to help the lovely brown girl roll away, and he knew that Thelma didn't mind. Even though he'd felt the telltale shuddering beginning deep within the core of her femininity. Thelma was basically a giver, after all, and she also knew that in a very short time he'd once again be coupling his body with hers.
Lowering and pushing into the quivering, ready flesh, at the same time reaching down and grabbing his wife's already racing hips, Floyd immediately began to lash himself quite furiously. He also glued his opened mouth to Betty's and jabbed his tongue deep. She sucked at his tongue feverishly-and he felt Thelma as that totally uninhibited sexpot got in on the act.
The brown beauty was busily exploring his swiftly moving buttocks in the manner she'd previously done with Betty. Floyd had been expecting the delightful sensation. had oven been looking forward to it, but even so he experienced his usual shock at the idea that anybody could possibly find the slightest degree of pleasure in doing such a thing.
Betty suddenly ripped her mouth away from Floyd's. Her dark eyes were glittering, her pretty face was contorted with passion, and she slowed the wild movements of her body in the way she always did when balanced on the very brink. Floyd quickly adjusted to the slower pace, feeling the spasms begin for her, aware that Thelma was playing it safe by stopping her thrill-producing activities and getting on her back beside them.
Not, Floyd thought rather dimly, that he would've climaxed if Thelma hadn't stopped. He seemed to have an erection that was going to last and last, because Betty was trembling and rippling through a whole series of spasmodic releases and he didn't feel as if he had advanced any closer to the end than when he'd first shoved into Thelma.
"You'd better rest before giving it to Thelma again, Floyd."
Realizing that his wife had been limp for quite some time, stopping the movements that he'd already slowed to what consisted of little more than an inch or so of jerking motions now and then, Floyd lifted his face from where he'd buried it in Betty's pleasant-smelling black hair.
He saw that Betty's eyelids were lowered. He removed his hands from Betty's very smooth ass and looked over to see Thelma's broad smile. "Miss Betty's right, Mister Floyd. Even my bull-like stepbrother would need some rest after what you just went through and he's a lot younger than you are. I've heard of men having heart attacks and dying right in the saddle and I wouldn't want anything like that to happen to you."
"That just might be the ideal way to go," Floyd said, smiling, knowing that it would be rather foolish on his part to remind the brown girl that it was really quite ridiculous for her to call her employers Miss and Mister under the circumstances.
Thelma had been born and raised in the South, as had Betty, and Floyd didn't think that he'd ever really get used to some of the Southern ways. Not that many things hadn't changed during the many years since he'd moved down from the North, but where sex was concerned he doubted that there'd be any real change for another hundred years or so. And he could understand that easily enough. In his own way he was just as inconsistent in some matters as anybody else. He certainly didn't like to even think about Betty being intimate with a male member of any other race.
While thinking these thoughts, along with wondering about the strange ways of life and sex, Floyd Denning had been removing himself from his wife. He wasn't really tired, he guessed that he could thank the liquor he'd consumed for that, but he was sure that he was in for a very long session.
Most females seemed to find it somehow insulting when a man stopped the action while still having an erection-and he didn't really go for the idea himself. In a way that was a sign of failure, though not quite as bad as failing to overcome limpness, so he'd just kind of coast along and say to hell with the ten o'clock meeting if it turned out that he didn't feel like making it.
After all, he was a big wheel in the company, as well as being the son-in-law of the owner, and Betty's father was quite a swinger, too. The old man would crap right in his pants if he knew about the swapping, but the horny old bastard had probably pronged half of the more attractive female employees.
"How do you want me, Mister Floyd? Like this?"
Floyd was on his hands and knees between his wife and the colored girl. He answered by moving over and getting between Thelma's sleek brown thighs. Her fingers were right there grabbing his slippery hardness, her curly black mound lifting for the penetration.
He glanced over and saw that his wife's eyes were still closed. He knew that she'd soon be watching with excited avidity, though. And that she'd probably be telling him to save his blistering finish for her. Sometimes he doubted that she could really be satisfied even if she had ten long-lasting men like him-with ten sensuous gals like Thelma tossed in or on for good measure.
"What's the matter, Mister Floyd? Do you want me to turn over on my stomach now?"
"He does not! I don't want him to give it to you like that right now, anyway! What is wrong, Floyd?"
"Not a thing," Floyd said, realizing that he'd been kind of poised there between Thelma's trembling thighs for maybe a full minute. He made contact with the hot moist flesh, then waited for Thelma to remove her fingers before slowly pushing his stiffness into the quiveringly tight channel. All cunts were so basically the same and yet at the same time so vastly different, he thought, groaning with pleasure.
When he was all the way in, still braced on his hands and arms, Thelma's long legs wrapped around his waist. The young girl had better inward muscular control than any female he'd ever encountered-or entered. Her snapping ability was really quite fantastic.
Not that Betty wasn't very good at it. But Thelma could go on and on, seemingly never getting tired, and as he gazed into her blazing black eyes-and experienced the glory of being milked like crazy without the brown girl making an outward movement he knew that it he hadn't become so jaded his passion would already be spilling forth.
Floyd looked and saw that Betty, two or three feet away, had faced them by rolling over on her side and propping on an elbow. He grinned and told her not to worry. She moved her opened mouth over to be kissed. Soon she was sucking on his tongue. Being worked on in two places like that, and in such similar ways, inflamed his senses. He began his in and out movements, lowered his chest against Thelma's jutting stiff-spiked titties, keeping his tongue in Betty's mouth all the while, and shoved his right hand between Betty's upper thighs.
Betty opened to him, he quickly found and began stimulating the slippery protrusion with his finger, and Thelma began to use outer and well as inner motions. In fact, Thelma began to bounce her brown butt very energetically and Floyd heard the soft little moans and gasping sounds there near his ear.
Floyd had never kissed Thelma. For several reasons, he guessed. Partly because she was colored and he didn't think that Betty would approve; partly because he wasn't all that sure that he wanted to get that intimate with the girl; and partly because of her strange habit of delving just any damn place with her eager tongue.
It was, he knew, a rather strange relationship that he and his sexy wife shared with the sexy brown girl. There was a kind of segregation even there on the huge bed while the three of them were seeking and finding sexual pleasure.
It was crazy, really, but no crazier than many other things having to do with human sexual behavior. He could write a book a foot thick about the strange things he'd witnessed even at the more mild swinging swapping parties.
"I'm coming, Mister Floyd! I'm blasting off to glory!"
For almost a full minute just about all Floyd could do was hold on. In the process of riding out the storm as the passionate brown girl blasted off to glory, which consisted of grabbing the wildly racing hips his fingers and jabbing the best he could to add to her pleasure as much as he could without being bucked off, Betty pulled her mouth away from his and got on her knees so that she could have a better view.
Then, as Thelma shuddered violently for several seconds and then went limp, Betty flopped over on her back and urgently begged Floyd to take her. Floyd, surprised that he seemed dangerously near his own climax, quickly left Thelma and moved over and plunged his slippery prick into Betty's hot pussy.
Once again Floyd had to hold on tightly to keep from being bucked off. And once again Thelma managed to get her eager tongue in on the act. How the hot-assed girl was able to do that, Floyd wasn't sure, but when Betty shuddered just as violently as Thelma had shuddered shortly before-and went just as limp-he still hadn't spasmed.
In fact, he was afraid that he was about to lose his erection. Betty and Thelma both sensed this and both told him what to do. Betty with words, and Thelma with words and by getting on her belly.
Rather wearily, partly because he was getting tired and sleepy, partly because the effects of the liquor were wearing off, Floyd pulled out of his wife and crawled over to the all-purpose maid. He drove himself into the very tight aperture, reached up and under and grabbed the firm brown hard-tipped mounds, jabbed to the clasping heat about thirty times in that many seconds, and shot forth into a blissfully throbbing release. Staring into the darkness, listening to her sleeping husband breathing softly, Betty Denning patiently waited for sleep to overcome her. Men were lucky in that way, she thought. Plenty of sex made them sleepy. While she, and several women had told her that the same was true of them, was usually wide awake for an hour or so even if the sexual activities had been very satisfying.
But she didn't really mind. She always enjoyed thinking about the wondrous joys she'd just experienced, as well as the many wondrous joys there'd be in the future, and she could spend the next hour or so contemplating possible pleasures with Dan McKay. Sharon?
Betty smiled to herself. It would be rather wonderful if it turned out that Sharon McKay went for the delightful gay thrills. If the young beauty assumed the aggressive role, of course. Because she had never put her mouth on any female like that. Despite the truth that she'd been tempted to give it a try several times.
The aggressive women seemed to get so much pleasure out of it. And she had enjoyed kissing several women on the mouth. The feminine lips had been so smooth and soft. She'd placed her lips and tongue on female nipples several times, too. It had felt so strange to feel the tips harden inside her mouth. Again Betty smiled to herself. Some had been hard even before she'd started kissing and tonguing them. As hers were most of the time without even being touched.
She felt Floyd turn over on his side and could see that he'd faced away from her. The poor dear had really been tired. He'd practically gone to sleep right there on and in Thelma. She and Thelma had washed him and then when she'd come out of the bathroom the maid had gone to her own private room and bath. Was that lovely brown creature sleeping? And had she really been tempted by that beautiful brown female flesh?
A little involuntary shiver raced up and down Betty's naked spine. She'd better not get started thinking about that subject. She wasn't queer, she just enjoyed having queer women give her pleasure. Not, she guessed, that Thelma and the many switch-hitting wives could truthfully be called or even considered queer. Not as long as they enjoyed men just as much as she did. And that was certainly saying a mouthful!
Betty lowered her eyelids. Maybe she'd better not think. As if she could really keep from thinking! But she did get a little worried about herself at times. Always so hot, so itchy for just about any kind of sex. Except for a couple of things that Thelma seemingly enjoyed doing so much. That crazy tongue jabbing bit even with men was more than a little disgusting, really, and the other-the eagerly offered buttocks was just too damn painful for her.
Not that she'd tried it all that much. Twice, actually. With Floyd one time as an experiment, and he'd had enough sense or compassion to stop when she'd yelled bloody murder. But another man, one of the husbands they'd later kicked out of the club for being so rough with so many of the wives, had screwed her like that until he'd finished. The couple of minutes had seemed like two hours and the damn doctor had laughed when she'd gone for help the next day.
Maybe the doctor had been right about her just being unusually tender there, and maybe his wife did go for that painful act, but by diddly-damn she didn't want any more of it! What if some really big man forced himself in like that? Or tired. Hell, she'd never be able to walk again-not to mention not being able to sit down!
Fortunately, though, she'd seldom encountered one of the swapping husbands who even hinted that he was interested in that form of sex-and the present fifteen or so male members of the club were very kind and considerate with all the wives. Some of them were willing to get rather rough if the females wanted it that way, of course, but the members always somehow managed to get rid of the sado-masochist characters who sometimes joined.
Some of the club members were real friends. She and Floyd liked them for reasons other than sex-or for reasons beyond the sexual pleasures involved-and it would be a special treat for them all if Dan and Sharon could be brought into the group.
But she and Floyd would have to take it easy with the very attractive young couple, Betty reminded herself. They'd already agreed to that, knowing from experience that some married couples could be seduced or whatever into switching with one other couple but then would balk at promiscuous swapping.
Betty sighed. She was getting way ahead of herself, that was for sure. She hadn't even made it with Dan yet, she might've even been mistaken about the young husband's intentions. He could've just been flirting-just flattering her because she was older, for that matter-and Sharon certainly hadn't given any signs of needing or wanting any more sex than her strong-looking husband could provide.
Sighing once again, turning over on her side away from her wearily sleeping husband, Betty began to tease herself with an erotic fantasy concerning Dan McKay. Soon, in Betty's imagination, Sharon willingly got in on the torrid action-and then Thelma was joining the entangling flesh-and soon after that Betty was fingering herself to and through a melting release.
Betty Denning finally drifted off to sleep while sucking her thumb.