My wife and I have been swinging for nearly ten years. My wife has always openly lusted for bigger or better eye candy. Events early in our marriage had led to joking about considering an open relationship after fourteen years. Joking and considering gave way to meeting and teasing and a few pleasant experiences - for her. Too often I have pointed out that a woman on the internet has a thousand guys to choose from, while a guy on the internet has to compete with thousands. I suggested swinging as a way to even the odds in my favor.

In ten years of experiences, we have seen it all, and done most of it ourselves. We started with simple rules. We would always keep an eye on each other, and only play in the same room and only with other married couples. We had a code word for "I don't want to play with this couple." Later, the rules got even simpler. Now our only rule is to let each other know who we are with. We have a couple of unwritten rules. We always use condoms with new friends, and encourage old friends to do the same. I should always consider her needs ahead of anyone else’s, and I think she might do the same for me. Finally, neither of us is allowed to pressure the other to "take one for the team."

Given this final rule, I was surprised one evening when my wife came out of the crowd at a party with a couple in tow, and said, "Honey, meet Tim and Janette. Tim and I are gonna go fuck. Go make Janette happy."

She took Tim and disappeared, leaving a stunned Janette standing in front of me. She had given me a once over evaluation, and she was not impressed. She watched them leave, and then turned back to me. She pasted a fake smile on her face, and said, "Well, John, I would really like to you take me somewhere quiet and fuck me silly."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We could just sit and chat for a while if you'd like," I added, indicating the seat beside me.

Her smile nearly shattered as she briefly considered my offer. "No, really, I want this. Please, let's go."

I knew right away that something was not quite right. On the other hand, Janette was a good looking woman, and she had asked nicely. There was a certain hardness around her eyes, though. A plan quickly formed in my mind, and I immediately set out to follow it. I hoped that the plan would pan out to us having sex, but I was planning to learn a lot more before we got there.

Taking her hand, I said, "Come with me, beautiful woman. I know just the place to go."

Without a word, she let me take her hand and lead her away. We left the crowds of the main room, and entered the corridors leading to the play venues. We passed by the Doctor's Office, the SnM Room, and the Roman Orgy pit. Every time I looked back at her, the fake smile would pop back onto her face, and she would nod reassuringly. I revised my plan to exclude sex. The plan did have contingencies for getting further the next time we met, assuming that we would meet again.

Finally we reached our destination. The room I chose was softly lit by several fake candles, and had a very sturdy massage table. She took a look around, and noticed the little basket of condoms and lube.

"It's okay to have sex in here?" she asked.

"Of course, but I want to take advantage of you first."

"You want to have sex before we have sex?" At least her fake smile was gone, replaced by honest confusion.

"I'm learning massage," I lied. "I need someone to practice on. Please try to enjoy it, and let me know to stop if I hurt you."

She was completely at a loss for what to do. I added, "I will go as quickly as I can, so we can get right to the sex."

The fake smile popped back up, and she said, "Great. Okay."

"Would you like help getting undressed?" I asked, hoping she would.

"No, I can do it," she answered, and the smile wavered.

"Okay."

I waited patiently, and she hesitantly started to get undressed. She paused in her panties and bra, but I nodded and she removed them as well. As she lay face down on the table, I removed my shirt and shorts, leaving only my boxers.

"Does this smell nice to you," I asked as I selected a bottle of lightly scented massage oil from the supplies, and held it out for her.

She sniffed the bottle, and answered, "Fine."

"Okay," I said. "Let's get started. Please just relax and enjoy."

I quickly warmed some oil between my palms, and started spreading in on her back. I started at her shoulders and worked my way down to her butt. I should point out that I have been giving massages to my wife and our female friends for years. My skilled hands made short work of mapping out her back and isolating some tight areas behind her shoulder blades and in her lower back. I started to work my way into relaxing her upper back.

"Wow, this is really tight here," I said. "You're holding too much tension in."

"Mmmmm."

"I find it helps sometimes if you talk about the things you are tense about."

"Mmmm. Like what?"

"Oh, anything. How about I ask some questions, and you answer the truth."

"Um, I don't know. Keep rubbing like that."

"Yes ma'am. Try this though. When you first saw me, what was the first thing that you saw and lusted?"

Her body tensed up as I knew it would. She might have been trying to get up, but my massaging was holding her down. I gave her ten seconds to answer, and she couldn't even begin a good lie.

"So, nothing then? And relax, please. It's okay. I kind of knew."

She pushed a little harder and turned to face me. The smile was gone, but not the tightness around her eyes.

"Can't we just fuck?" she pleaded. "I really want to do that."

Her eyes took in my near nakedness and her eyes got tighter. I felt a sudden urge to caress her face and kiss her gently and tell her everything would be all right.

"Okay," I said, instead. "Let's work this oil in a little more, and then we'll get to it."

She just nodded and turned back onto the table. I resumed the massage and worked on her shoulders and upper back for several minutes.

"We really need this knot to break," I said softly. "Tell me something."

The tension returned to her whole back.

"Tell me why you would let him make you do this," I said, projecting as much empathy as I could.

"Please, he's not making me..."

I waited, and kept rubbing. Finally she took a deep breath, and as she blew it out, all of the tension evaporated with it. I don't think she noticed.

"It was his turn," she started. I said nothing, but slowly worked my hands down to her lower back.

"It's his turn, and because he didn't like who I picked last time, he picked you." I remained silent, working from her flanks in to her spine.

"I wanted this guy, and we only play with couples, and I begged Tim to take the guy's wife, and she was everything he hates. The guy wasn't even worth it, and the wife was even worse. We sort of argued about it later, and I agreed to let Tim pick this time. I agreed to play with anyone he chose, and to give the guy the best sex he has had ever. I am sure he is laughing right now and loving it. Your wife is everything he wants in a play friend and you..."

I could almost hear the gears grinding as she tried to get out of the hole she had jumped into. Tension barely returned to her back though, so I decided to let her off the hook.

"Tell me what you liked about the guy you picked."

She thought about that for a bit, and the tension melted away. The knots were almost gone as well.

"Well. He is a smaller man, only an inch taller than me. He has a wide smooth chest and I wanted to tease his hard nipples. His jaw line was so square and clean and kissable. He has this gorgeous hair, all wavy and long on top, and close shaved on the side. I couldn't wait to run my fingers through it."

"So, pretty much my opposite then?" I said with a quiet laugh. For the record, I am taller, and a little stocky. I work out often enough to have some muscle definition, but I would never be called a gym rat. I have a lot of chest and facial hair, and not so much hair on my head.

When she didn't answer, I said, "Look how that worked. You talked your tension away."

She rolled her shoulders a bit and exclaimed, "How did you do that? I can't believe how good that feels. That knot never goes away!"

"That was all you. You just needed to let all that tension go, and you did."

"Right," she said, not believing me at all.

I warmed up some more oil, and started on her legs. She silently allowed me to work, starting at her butt, and working down to her feet. I had worked from the bottom back up to her knees before she spoke again.

"Listen," she said, "We should still have sex, you know." Silently, I worked the massage into her thigh and butt muscles.

"This feels really good," she admitted. "I owe it to you to give you anything you want." I worked the massage up onto her back, finishing her back side.

"Don't make me beg," she threatened.

"Maybe I should," I replied. "Roll over."

"Okay, good," she said, complying with my command. "Good. You should do whatever you want to me."

"No, the other 'I should'," I said and she looked confused. "I am not done with this massage. When I am done, I will do anything you want. I plan to make you beg for it, though."

She laughed and said, "Okay, if that's how you want to play it." With a challenging look and an honest smile, she added, "Let's see who gives in first!"

I smiled back at her, and reached for the oil. I started with the fronts of her legs. The first technique required me to stand below her knees, and push the massage pressure up her thighs. As she relaxed into it, I started to let my thumbs press lower and lower between her legs, and then end with a sweeping motion the barely missed stroking her labia. She had no tension there, other than what I hoped to create.

I moved to stand at her side and pull the massage pressure up her thighs. I used both hands on each thigh, and switched legs on each stroke. Needless to say, the hand the pulled up her inner thigh would intentionally press and slide over her outer lips.

She parted her legs to allow easier access. I reached for the oil and warmed it quickly before applying it. I know where she expected my hands to move next. I surprised her by moving to her flanks and stomach. I made quick work of that area, with some deep long pulls to relax the muscles there.

I turned and worked oil up her ribs, and then bypassed her breasts to massage her upper chest. I moved in close, with my face just above her stomach. The stroke I used started at her lower ribs, swept up and in to her sternum, circled around her breasts and then pressed in from her armpits to her neck.

I was concentrating on following those lines with all of my focus on keeping the correct pressure and touch for each part of the curve. I noticed that she was watching my eyes and my hands intently, and somehow that made me nervous.

I moved up more and started on her shoulders and neck. I was relieved to see that she closed her eyes. I was circling my thumbs into her neck muscles nearing her ears when her body gave a startled jump. I hadn't felt any tightness.

"Okay?" I asked.

Without opening her eyes, she nodded.

I stroked down her neck and then started circling back up again and she jumped again.

"What am I hitting?" I asked, worried that I was hurting her.

"My nipples," she hissed. "Don't stop!"

I allowed myself to smirk as I stoked down and started to work up her neck again. This time I saw that as I worked to get the right pressure to my hands, my chest was moving close enough that some of the hairs were teasing on her very erect nipples. She didn't jump this time, but her breathing became a bit erratic.

I worked the line several more times. She was nearly panting, and she was actively trying to lift her breasts higher each time. I flattened my hands on the down stroke and moved away from her. Her eyes snapped open and she gave a frustrated moan.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"I am not done yet," I explained. She smiled in anticipation, but then frowned as I reached across her and pulled the far arm up onto the table beside her head. I gently worked the muscles of that arm, but in doing so, I allowed my body to press against her stomach. As I stroked up the arm to her hand, my body slid up her body. She moaned in appreciation.

"Can I hate you?" she asked in a shaky voice. I chuckled, but continued to rub and tease.

"I love clean men," she said. "I love the feel of smooth tight skin and perky man nipples. I love the feel of a man's smooth cheeks on my thighs while he licks me."

I had finished that arm, so I eased around to the other side of the table. She raised her other arm into position before I got there, and I oiled up and reached across her body to work that arm. She brought her other hand to my shoulder and started tracing the lines of the muscles there.

"I abhorred all this hair on a man," she continued. "I thought it would be scratchy and itchy and gross. I don't know what you've done. You skipped down there and my breasts, and I know you did that on purpose. It was all I could think about, and it made me want you to touch them so bad. And then the tickling started and it felt so good."

Her eyes were intently watching my eyes and face as I worked on her arm. Instead of being nervous, I suddenly felt that she was watching me perform, and I strongly felt the need to do and be my very best for her.

"The first thing that I saw that made me lust you," she said as I was finishing the massage, "was the way the muscles in your forearm rippled as you touched my ribs and shoulders." She took my hand in hers, and caressed the lines on my forearm.

"I could see the strength, and I loved how you could press so deep into my ribs, barely caress my sides, and then sculpt my shoulders. I bet you will handle these really well." She placed my hand squarely on her upturned breast.

She watched intently and caught every reaction that seared through my body as my hand folded around her breast and measured its fullness. My other hand found her other breast, and in unison, they circled, rolled, and tested her flesh. Thumbs and forefingers pressed together, gathering her aroused nipples, and pinching until she arched her back in pleasure.

My hand caressed and flowed down to her ribs, then pressed back up to take her nipple again. I bent forward and caught a nipple in my mouth, pinching it with teeth and tongue as I pinched the other with thumb and fingers. She cried out, then pulled my face from one nipple and smashed it to the other. I took it aggressively and she cried out again. Her body was shaking as she pulled me away and pulled my face up to her own.

"The second thing that made me lust you," she said, "was this hair that I detest."

She squirmed her body against mine as she said, "I don't know what you did, but I can feel the muscle, I can feel the smooth skin, and I can feel the hair and it feels so good. I want to run my fingers through it, I want to feel it between us. I want it, and I can't imagine why I thought I wouldn't. I want... I want to feel your beard on my neck as you kiss me, on my thighs as you lick me, on my OH!"

I could not stop myself from giving her what she wanted. I pressed forward and kissed her neck, and maybe nibbled a bit as well. She stopped talking and let herself enjoy the actions of my hands on her breasts, my lips on her throat, and my body pressed to hers. She also allowed herself to enjoy touching me. Her hands explored my shoulders, my chest, my hips and butt. Her hand sought and found my very hard cock. Her other hand pushed me away and her burning eyes sought mine.

"Fuck me, John, fuck me now!" she exclaimed. "I want you on top of me and inside me and fucking me. No begging- I'm demanding!"

Just once in my life, I wish I could do something and have it come off as smooth, confident, suave, and cultured. Just then, I wished I could somehow manage to remove my boxers, open and deploy a condom, and ascend the table without tripping, or elbowing her, or knocking us both off the table. I tried. As my cock slid into her, she exclaimed, "Fuck! Yes!" There may be hope for me yet.

We quickly found a driving rhythm. My weight was all on my left hand and my knees. My right hand was free to caress up and down her body. I held myself just off of her body, and our thrusting and rocking was sliding a lot of skin on skin. Her focus turned to her breasts as she concentrated on the feel of her nipples being teased by my chest hair. She arched her back to create more friction. This reduced the depth of my thrust inside her. She raised her legs and pulled at me. I slid up to drive down more forcefully. In the middle of our lust, the tightness crept back into the corners of her eyes. I slowed and stopped.

"Don't stop," she hissed.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Don't stop."

I gave her a look and said, "Tell me."

She hesitated, and then she said, "It's stupid. It's just me being stupid."

I waited, and she finally said, "This is why I don't like taller guys. I know you're not being heavy on me, but when you're over me like that, I get afraid of being crushed, and not being able to breathe, and it's stupid. Just keep going. It will be okay."

I said, "Okay, we can keep going. Just move with me."

The whole smooth-confident-suave thing failed me as I tried to sit back, swing my legs forward, pull her up, lay back, pull her on top, and manage it all without sliding out of her. We both smiled and teased as we awkwardly got repositioned, but we did end up with me on my back on the table, and with her fully impaled and on top.

"I like this," she purred, as she started rocking up and down on my cock.

She leaned forward and found the perfect angle. She could ride me and also control the amount of pressure of her breasts on my chest. She would press forward, squashing her breasts against me. Then she would ease up, until only her nipples were rasping up and down.

I was able to teach her a new game called "Where will I touch next, and what touch will I use." My hands were very active, first squeezing her ass, then scratching circles up her back, then randomly touching, gently pinching, and hovering where she could feel the heat. She really enjoyed when I would grab her ass for a couple of strokes, and then raced my fingers up her sides.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm so close," she cried out.

My fingers were racing up her side and she was arching her back to drive herself down onto me. I sat up to meet her, spiked my fingers into her hair, and grabbed a fistful without pulling too hard. My other hand raced up her ribs and lifted her breast. I caught her nipple in my mouth and clamped onto it. Her body exploded into her orgasm, and she cried out in her incoherent lust. Her response overwhelmed me, and I exploded within her. She was lost in her own world of pleasure, and yet she reacted to the lurching of my cock, and my primal noises, and she was carried away again.

I have a mental photograph of that pose. Her head is lifted and her shoulders are slightly back. Her breasts are lifted. Her eyes are wide with her pleasure, but locked on my eyes, drinking in the pleasure she can see in me.

Some time later, she was resting with her head on my shoulder. She was sliding her palm in lazy circles on my chest. I was playing games on her still sensitive skin. First I would tickle and tease until she was jumpy, then I would massage and smooth away the energy. There was a quiet tap at the door.

We heard my wife ask, "John?"

"Yes?" I replied.

The door opened and she stuck her head in. "Do you still have Janette? Tim is worried because she's not out front."

"Yes, she’s safe and sound right here."

Janette sat up quickly beside me as the door opened and her husband and my wife walked in. Janette winked at me, and then pasted the fake smile on her face.

"Well thanks, John. You were really, really great," she said. "I’ve got to go get cleaned up. Have a great night."

She beamed the fake smile at Tim, then turned back and bent to kiss my cheek.

"I lust," she whispered in my ear, and then kissed me. The fake smile was back again as she gathered up her things. She looked back one last time as she walked away with her husband. The fake smile had faded to a genuine smile, and she winked at me again.

---

A couple of months later, we ran into them again at a different venue. She was alone, showing off to a group of her friends. My wife left me to go find Tim. She smiled and said hello, and gave me a quick hug. Some other friends pulled me away. After shaking hands, and telling tall tales, I excused myself, and wandered back around to where she was. Someone else was the center of attention in her group, so I touched her arm to get her attention. I was going to try to draw her away to gauge her interest. Our eyes met.

A good while later, as she lay on top of me, idly caressing her palm across my chest, she jokingly asked me to send her a note as a reminder of what we shared. I wrote the poem for her.