One of the reasons I didn’t blog for a few days earlier this month is that I wasn’t able to write about this experience when it happened. Nor two weeks later when it came to a close. Not exactly sure why. The words just kept escaping me. But, today I decided to give it a go and see what tumbled out of me.

She left her wristwatch at my house. I waited a couple days to see if she’d contact me. Not about it per se. But to thank me for hosting her and her husband for dinner and play. Only, she never sent a note. Which saddened me. I’m a stickler for common courtesies.

So, I wrote her and said I had it. It took two weeks of e-mails back-and-forth for us to find a day and time to meet. She suggested doing so at a grocery store in the middle of the day. 12 noon to be exact. A grocery store? I was speechless. What was I missing?

Perhaps I should go back to the beginning.

A few weeks ago, Tank and I went to a swinger’s meet-and-greet a mile from my home at a locally-owned restaurant. I’ll bet at least 150 people were there—identifiable by the multi-colored beads that they’d been given when they checked in. Dancing outdoors under the stars. Eyeing each other as though they were at a high school dance.

I’m sooooo into Tank that I’ve little desire to flirt when he’s around. Plus, when left to my own devices, I tend to be a shy person. Midway through the evening he left me on my own for a while to get us some drinks. But first, he’d given me an assignment.

“Baby, I want you to approach a guy. Any guy. And flirt with him. I’ll find you.”

The first man I approached barely spoke three words to me. That corked me. He’d just demonstrated while I’ll have work forever, teaching people how to schmooze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a married man laughing at what he’d witnessed. Not being one to miss an opportunity I approached him.

“I don’t think he’s all that interested in me. Or anyone else who’s here for that matter.”

“Well, then, his loss is my gain. Why don’t you have a seat and chat with me. My wife is off somewhere. I’m sure she’ll return soon.”

And she did. Followed soon by Tank. Both of them were bearing drinks. The four of us hit it off immediately. And much to our surprise, when Tank and I returned to my house and viewed their profile, we realized they were seeking a couple exactly like us.

“Randi, I’d really love for us to be with a couple.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just more into groups—you know, a few of my girlfriends and lots of black men with large cocks.”

“I know, babe. But I think you’ll really like the intimacy of being with one couple even though they’re new to the lifestyle.” Whaddha think?”

Trusting Tank implicitly, I invited them to dinner at my home two weeks later. They quickly accepted. But, I must admit, I harbored a bit of a concern about the wife. She seemed more reserved that her husband. While she didn’t flinch when her husband kissed me with his tongue at the meet-and-greet, she hadn’t responded outwardly to Tank’s warmth, which is infectious.

I spent several hours the two days before they arrived getting ready for the evening. Arranged to get my full Brazilian wax done early. I love being soft and clean. Went to three grocery stores for fresh flowers and the perfect ingredients for our meal. Made sure the house was clean. Made dinner from scratch with several chocolate dessert selections. And selected what I considered to be just the perfect music.

The dinner conversation was delightful. That’s when we learned that the wife had grown up a very good girl, the perfect daughter, just like me. No dates in high school. No real sexual adventures till she’d met her husband.

We had a blast playing Twister. My idea. I’d been trying to figure out a way to get us all into contorted physical positions so we could have a few laughs. And sure enough, leave it to Tank to cause me to tumble in a fashion that put my ass with its pretty little dark blue and magenta flowered thong in the air and my black skirt around my breasts.

The agreement was that the losers would shed clothing. But instead, I saw the wife take off her top and her husband his shirt. “Hmmm. Maybe I’d figured wrong about her.”

After a second round, of which we lost again (you’d think we’d be winning given that Tank is a rock climber and can easily contort himself into multiple positions), the wife took off her skirt and her husband his pants.

And, as only Tank can do, he gently asked a few questions of the wife.

“What do you like?”

She looked away from him and her husband—and didn’t respond.

“You must like something that you husband does to you.”

Her husband piped up, “Can I respond for her?”

“Actually, I’d like to hear from your wife. In her words.”

(Whispering) “Uhmmm. I don’t know.”

“Well, what does her husband like? You’ve been married for 16 years and have a couple kids so I’m thinkin’ you know him well.”

(Laughing softly) “Yeah …”

I couldn’t contain myself. I spoke up. “Can I tell them what I think you like with me?

“Sure.”

“You like anything I do that allows me to look in your eyes at the same time I doin’ I to ya.”

The husband looked at me. “And how long have you two known each other?”

“Three months. But we talk about sex all the time.”

Her husband came over an gave me a wet kiss. “Any chance we could go to the sofa?”

“How about we go upstairs, to my room?”

I led the pack. Shedding my top and skirt along the way. With the wife behind me. I know how much men love to look at women’s asses.

Tank opened the sliding door to my balcony and led me outdoors. “Let’s give them a moment to play with each other and get comfortable.” A few minutes later, we walked back in.

The husband immediately shifted his attention from his wife to me. He sat on the bed, with me in front of him, and undid my bra. He fondled and kissed my breasts, taking each in his mouth. And then put his right hand behind my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. I started massaging his cock and got on my knees to take off his jockey shorts to get a better look at his uncircumsized cock. And positioned it inside my mouth.

By this time, Tank was kissing the wife and was caressing her body, His hands are amazing. They can soften me in a moment. But she seemed a little stiff.

After ten minutes of quietness in the room, I made eye contact with Tank. He immediately came over, put me doggy style on the bed, and proceeded to fuck me from behind. I squealed. And yelped. Loudly. Enough to alert anyone who was listening to my enjoyment.

Then Tank stopped. And turned me back over to the husband. As he went back to the wife.

For the next hour, I was miserable. The husband tried to give me oral. But it was clear he didn’t know where my clit was located or that it was something he needed to stimulate. I whispered lessons to him.

“Stimulate my clit. Here’s where it’s located. You can suck it, pull on it, tease it, lick it. Want me to show you how I masturbate?”

While he seemed eager to learn, his sexual prowess was at a first grade level, at best. I was mortified, I hadn’t signed up for a shitty evening.  He was behaving like the little engine that couldn’t.

It was easy to get him off orally. And to sound like I was enjoying myself. For many of my adult years, I’d learned to fake enjoyment. But no sounds out of the wife. And I’d noticed that every time Tank got close to making her come orally, her body froze. Like she didn’t want to come. Or, wasn’t all that familiar with the sensation.

All through this experience, her husband kept baiting me.

“Touch my wife. She likes it.”

“No. she hasn’t asked me to. Nor has she reached out to me.”

“But she won’t do that. I know she likes it though, Kiss her, OK?”

“NO. She has to appear receptive. And she doesn’t right now. She’s in charge, not you.

“Oh, come on. Just for me. Won’t you do it?”

“I will not. She needs to want it. And she doesn’t seem to right now.” By this time, Tank had heard me. I’d propped myself up on my left elbow.

“You look so content, baby.”

I smiled. Content? CONTENT? I was bored out of my mind!! All I could think of was “get me outta here. NOW!”

After what seemed like forever, things came to a close. The husband and wife got dressed and Tank escorted them to their car. I finished cleaning up from dinner. When he walked back in, her gave me a long hug.

“Babe, how ya doin’? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I do.”

“It was horrible. Awful. The guy didn’t even know where my clit was or how to stimulate it. You’d think he’d never had sex before. Geez. What do you think their sex life is like?”

“Good question. The wife wasn’t all that responsive either. Every time I’d get her close to cumming, she’d push me away. I’m not sure what’s going on with them. But it’s like I promised you, baby. If you didn’t get fucked well, I’m here for you. What do you need?”

And that’s when I saw the watch.

Tank and I had one helluva fuck session that night. One for the memory books. It was hard and long—and delicious.

The wife was at the checkout counter when I arrived at noon. I asked, “Do you have a few minutes to chat and catch up?” She acknowledged that she did.

She was all talk when it came to describing the prior weekend’s out-of-town activities with her husband, children, and her husband’s niece. They’d attended her son’s soccer tournament and toured a museum. Drank a lot of booze. I learned that even though they were new to the lifestyle that her husband wanted them to play with others every Friday and Saturday evening. And that she wasn’t sure she had the energy to do so. Even though she was starting to feel a sense of addiction to the sex they were having with strangers.

I’d looked at their online profile before driving over that day. No one had “certified” their play with them so I suspected the experiences weren’t all that noteworthy to others.

I decided to relay to her in a comical way my unpleasant swing experiences with Maestro, in the hopes of letting her know that she was in charge, not her husband. (see About Last Night). She was quiet. It was hard to read her reactions through her dark sunglasses. Right before we parted ways, she softly said, “I think I have a lot more learning to do.” I chuckled inside, thinking to myself, “Honey, you and your hubby have a lot of learning AND talking to do. I hope to God you aren’t put in an uncomfortable situation any time soon.” But, having worked as a therapist in a former life, I’m very clear that I don’t own her challenges.

Tank and I are bound to see them again at another meet-in-greet that’ll take place in three weeks. Frankly, I’m not looking forward to it. Good thing my parents taught me how to be gracious and to put on my game face when honesty isn’t called for.

And, in case you’re wondering, I still trust Tank implicitly. I’ve no doubt we’ll find a couple or two who are just right for us.