Anniversary Vacation with wife sharing and swinging
By: Date: 2023.12.06. Categories: Just Swinger Stories Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“I saw this, too.”

Stan’s hand began searching for, then finding, the side hem of the
sarong.

Helen tilted her head, eyes closed, as Stan’s mouth found that wonderful
hollow in her neck below her ear, that special place that excites her.
Already she was coloring – her pale skin took on a red glow.

Now he had one hand on her sarong at about her stomach, the other, just
at her hip.

Helen’s hands went to cover the hand he had on her stomach.

Barbara’s hand tightened on mine, as Helen again moved back against him,
her eyes looking at me, her husband, as she did that.

She continued that gaze, a small smile on her face, as she moved one of
her hands to Stan’s wrist, on her hip.

“Michael was the guy’s name from over there,” she whispered. “When we
were like this, he did this.”

She pulled on Stan’s wrist, moving it in, and under, the wrap.

“How far does this flap go, beautiful?” Stan wanted to know.

“Almost all the way across my front, the way I have this on.”

He found the inner flap when his hand was almost to her opposite hip.

Helen reached up and back so she could touch his cheek.

Stan’s eyes were closed, as his hand found the skin on her hip, and moved
back towards center, pulling the inner flap with it. We could see all of
that happening under her wrap.

“Oh, there’s a difference, Barbara. There’s only Helen under here, now.
Thank you Helen, thank you Al, Helen, the skin on your tummy feels so
smooth. . .”

Barbara and I watched as Stan moved his hand under the material, its
travel displayed by the cloth moving on Helen’s sarong, along her mid
section, while Helen made “mmmm” sounds, saying “you have just the nicest
touch, Stan, it feels so nice” until she broke her stare at me, closing
her eyes,

and stood a little taller,

and made a small gasp.

Stan’s fingers were doing more than exploring, now.

“Michael did that, too” she muttered.

“Your wife feels warm, Al. Warm and wet. I’ll bet Barbara does, too. Are
you excited, Helen, are you horny? Does this turn you on?”

She muttered something, and even in the dim light I, we, could see her
face was moist with perspiration, and flushed.

She stood there, eyes still closed, still holding his hands to her body,
as she stood, not quite still, moving in time with his hand, as he
excited her, touching her.

Barbara, still standing in front of me, used her right hand took my
right wrist, and led it under her own robe onto the short negligee she
was wearing, , and down, its hem, then up again, and then gasp matched
Helen’s, because my fingers found a warm wet place to touch, too!

Barbara’s grip tightened even more when my finger encased itself in the
warm moisture, as we watched the movement under Helen’s beach wrap, as
Stan touched my wife. Even now I can remember what it was like with Stan,
touching her, looking at me touching Barbara, with Helen, eyes closed,
enjoying the sensation of his hand on her, of her buttocks moving against
him.

Helen lifted her head, turning it to the side so that their lips could
meet, she needed loving intimacy from the man whose fingers were
penetrating her. Barbara and I watched this vision, a woman, being
touched in the most intimate way, her open mouth meeting his. Barbara
moved more demandingly against my hand, her other hand lead mine under
her robe to her breast – an erect nipple was obvious through the baby
doll nightgown I was sure was under there, and her motions against my
groin found another erect organ, too.

“You’re an exciting woman, Helen,” Stan said, breaking the kiss. “Can you
tell I’m excited?”

“Mmmm, I can feel you, Stan.”

“Al, Barbara, I know you’re enjoying each other, but come here for a
minute.

We approached the two of them.

“Al, look at her. Doesn’t she look wonderful? Would you like to kiss your
wife while I’m touching her? Helen, would you like that?”

She nodded yes, and opened her eyes enough to see me, and took my face in
her hands, and drew me to her. It was incredible, kissing her, feeling
her make motions that weren’t caused by me while we were doing that.

“I’ve never felt a woman so wet, Helen. It’s like you’re full of the
richest cream, it’s like my fingers are in the softest butter.”

She just stood there, enjoying it, knowing I was watching her face while
it happened.

“Barbara, honey, get behind me, OK?” Stan asked.

She did.

“Loosen my robe, OK?”

“Can you feel how hard I am, Helen?” he wanted to know.

“Mmm, yes, yes I can.”

“Look at Al, now.”

Her eyes opened, and saw me, right in front of her.

“Al, reach around her.”

I did, hands on her hips.

“Al, could you lift up the back of her wrap for me?”

What a perverted thing to ask me to do!

But I began gathering the material in my hands, lifting, while Helen
stared into my eyes. She felt the coolness on her legs, then warmth and
hardness on her ass, as her eyes widened when she felt my fingers on her
waist: I lifted the material that high!

Stan moved closer, and Helen’s eyes closed fluttered, and she made a
faint gasp, as now, for the second time in two days she direct evidence
of the excitement she caused a man who hardly knew her, this time being
especially erotic because it was me who lifted her wrap, so she could
feel his erection move against her ass, and between her legs.

Now his other hand moved over her wrap, moving higher, until he had a
hand on the breast of the woman his other hand was invading,
masturbating.

Barbara left her husband and stood behind me, so her hands could reach
under my waistband, finding my own pubic hair.

When I opened my eyes my wife was looking at me, being touched by
Barbara, while I looked at her, being touched by Stan!

Stan was enjoying himself – and my wife. “Move back against me, against
my cock, Helen. Feel how hard I am, now.”

She backed harder into him, and I saw her rising, and falling, against
the penis that had to be hard against her buttocks.

Her hand went behind her, and the expressions on each of their faces left
no doubt about what she had found pressing into her.

“Stan,” she muttered, “did you see Michael pick me up on the balcony?”

“I did.”

“Could you do that?” Helen asked, turning, and she just put her arms
around his neck.

Stan bent down, got an arm behind her knees, and behind her shoulders,
and lifted her, bending to kiss her again.

“Your dress opened yesterday when he did this to you” Stan said, still
holding her, his own robe hanging open, displaying, to his wife, and to
me, his intentions.

“That’s because I loosened it for him,” Helen told all of us.

“Do it for Stan, too, honey” I said, not wanting to move, feeling fingers
moving along my penis, fondling its head. Helen looked at me, smiling
that wonderful sexy smile, then pulled on the sash’s end, opening the
bow.

Nothing happened.

She found the buttons, and released them, too.

Barbara held me tightly as we watched Stan turn with Helen in his arms,
and watched as Helen reached down, and lifted the flap of material.

“I think you want me to help him like this – ” she said, again meeting my
eyes, and releasing the hem.

It parted at her knees, and just

just

fell away,

held only by the button under her arm, making it an open cape, exposing
her, making her nude, in his arms.

He carried her the three steps to the bed.

We followed, looking at Helen, her sarong flowing behind her, watched
Stan, looking down at her, enjoying that beautiful vision.

“I did something like this yesterday, for Michael” She sat up, opened the
last button, allowing the garment to flow from her shoulders, where it
concealed nothing, to the bed, while she extended her arms to Stan. “I
wanted him on me!”

We moved to the side of the bed, Barbara in front, me, with my arms
around her.

Stan, looking at this woman on the bed, pulled at his robe, shrugged it
off, and knelt on the foot of the bed.

Barbara, still watching, moved closer, away from me. “I want to help my
husband now, OK?”

Stan positioned Helen’s legs on either side of his knees, and leaned
foreword, so that his face was at her thigh. I saw his tongue flick out,
kissing Helen there, and saw her shiver with his touch. She lay back.

Barbara had shrugged off her robe – it was a teddy under there – while
Stan moved a little higher with his kisses.

Barbara climbed to the head of the bed, above Helen, and took Helen’s
arms, and drew them up, and held them by their wrists, until they were
over her head, and on Barbara’s waist. Helen looked so appealing, legs
spread, arms held high, that I couldn’t resist. I bend forward, my hands
found Helen’s breast, gathered it into a mound, so my mouth could cover
its summit. She moaned as I gently bit at her nipple. She moaned louder,
and I saw that Stan had gotten to her vagina, his hands were spreading
her vulva, and his tongue was caressing her clit!

Helen’s hips were so active just then, and her attention directed to
those sensations, that she didn’t notice Barbara no longer held her hands
in place, but instead leaned forward, moving me out of the way, so that
her mouth could find a breast, too.

I stood up, watching my wife lay there, receiving all of this attention,
all of this loving.

I watched as one mouth worked in her vulva, and the other, on her breast.

I couldn’t help myself. I moved, kneeling on the bed beside Helen. She
turned, her lips wet, her head under Barbara’s belly, her body making
small motions in response to the ministrations it was receiving.

I put a hand on Barbara’s ass, and pushed a little.

She accommodated me, spreading her legs more, moving down more.

“Barbara?”

“Mmmm?” was the only response I heard.

“Barbara, move down a bit more, OK?”

She did, and Helen, eyes almost glazed, almost closed, with her hands
still on Barbara’s waist, looked at me in understanding, smiled faintly,
and turned to face upward.

She whispered “Oh, this is so naughty. . .”

I saw the fulfillment of another fantasy as Helen’s hands, on Barbara’s
waist, pulled her closer.

I watched as Barbara moved in response, her teddy just to her hips,
until her knees were at Helen’s shoulders, and she rotated her hips – I
bent forward to watch this final intimacy, as Barbara descended, until
she was just brushing Helen’s nose, and how Helen leaned her head back,
neck extended, and pulled at Barbara’s waist, and how her mouth opened,
and was covered by Barbara’s vulva.

I watched her neck, and could see the motions that meant her mouth and
tongue were busy.

I watched as Barbara sat upright, flushed, as Stan moved higher, until
his own penis was caressing Helen’s pubic hair.

I watched as Helen released Barbara’s hips, and used her hands instead to
guide Stan.

And I watched as the head of Stan’s penis neared Helen’s vulva, then was
steered to it by her hands, and without pause, without ceremony, entered
it!

And how wonderful it looked to see Stan kissing his Barbara, while his
cock moved inside Helen, and Helen, completing the connection, the
circuit, by having her own tongue in Barbara.

I pulled off my chinos.

Barbara saw that. Moved off Helen.

Moved beside her on the king sized bed, and pulled her garment over her
head.

She extended her arms toward me, inviting me.

I moved over her, parallel to Stan, and felt her pulling me, adjusting my
position, and the tip of my own cock was brushing hair, and I moved
nearer, and felt blunt pressure on its end, then that wonderful moment
when she opened for me, and I was in her!

I looked at this new body under mine, and then to the side, where Helen
lay. She was looking at me, and her hand reached over to touch mine. By
then both Stan and I were moving with long strokes, and my wife’s hand
held mine – I could feel his movements through her hand!

Barbara reached for her husband’s hand, too: the eroticness of this all
was almost too much, until Barbara released Stan’s hand and reached under
him, to his cock, and held it, stoking him into my wife! Helen, feeling
that, looked at me, and began doing the same thing, holding my penis
while it was wet with Barbara, filling her. Helen squeezed hard, as she
began climaxing.

I was thrusting into Barbara as Stan began making those long motions,
holding himself rigid, soon to come, to ejaculate, in my wife!

The sight of Stan, hips flexing forward as he pushed into her, then
releasing the pressure, pumping into her, the stimulation of Helen’s hand
masturbating me, of Barbara’s cunt encasing my own penis, was too much.

I erupted, and began softening. I thought I felt Helen arch her back and
go rigid the way she does when she has an orgasm.

Stan’s actions became more violent, until finally, he too made his
donation into my wife.

Except for Barbara, it was over, with a pile of bodies on the bed.

The first up was Barbara, pulling on her robe, reminding Stan he had some
work to do on her, soon.

Then Stan. Finally Helen and me.

“I think it’s really bedtime now. Do you guys want to sleep here, so we
can play again in the morning before you pack up and leave?”

I answered, not caring what Helen thought now. “No, we better go to our
room.”

The sarong Barbara wrapped around herself no longer looked sexy.

“Thanks, guys. We’ll talk to you tomorrow’, Stan said in parting.

“Stan, we’ll be leaving early,” Helen responded. “I couldn’t do this
again, this is the place to stop.”

The door closed as we heard Barbara say “You’re right!”

The wait for the elevator took forever, and was silent.

Finally, we got to our room.

“Not good, huh?”

“No, Al, not good.”

“That’s not a story I’m ever going to talk about, honey.”

“I hoped you won’t want to,” she whispered to me.

I picked Michael’s wings from the dresser. “We’re not going to need these
any more.”

I went to our balcony, Helen joined me. I made a simple underhand toss,
and we watched the wings sparkle as they twisted in the moonlight,
falling to the foliage below.

“Come on, wife. Come to bed with your husband. We’re leaving Haroldo, and
Michael, and Stan, and Barbara, all of them, behind us now. We are going
to be just for the two of us.”

“Good” she said, tears in her eyes.

We’ve never talked about them again.

But there are times, when I hug my wife from behind, or see her, under
me, her hair framing her face, when I remember.

And there are times when her eyes take on that look, and I’m sure she’s
remembering, too.

We just don’t talk about it. And we like it that way.

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