As it was originally with homosexuality per se, wife-swapping was unthinkable in "elite circles" and hushed in many others. We are undergoing a change, however, and very few words or practices are still considered taboo in many circles of today's society.
Morals appear to revolve on a clock with each minute connoting change of some sort. Common-law marriages are still taboo, but just barely. Why, many ask, is it not fair to live with a person without the so-called benefit of marriage?
Why is this illegal if I love the person? etc., etc.
The world is rapidly changing and enculturation alters itself along with the tide. Perhaps the next generation will produce proponents of everything we quaintly consider taboo and/or perverse. Who knows?
Terry and Candy are otherwise typical of a common-law couple. Young and enthused about much of life, they see no walls where barriers once stood; they see very little save for the sheer physical pleasures they once afforded each other exclusively and which now is given by other couples. While Terry does not appear the persona of his proclivities, neither his homosexuality nor his other urges has dissuaded him from his adopted and seemingly free And easy style of living-nor will it, he proclaims.
Bartell's Group Sex advocates the middleclass average citizen mate-swapper in a small way, yet categorizes the same as generally being of a certain stature, financial resource, political and life leaning, and, in other words, "the average American family." We do not see this theory as correct or anything more than unadulterated and gross generalization. One author can no more say that all female spouse swappers weigh 120 lbs., have blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, than one can say that all politicians wear black clothes and are crooks or that all storekeepers in a given area are crass and inhuman mercenaries.
We can do no more in this volume than present case history material as it is presented to us and with whatever description afforded by the narrator. Though some of the material related will seem perverse in its very difference to our own lifestyle, this is not to say that it cannot and does not ever happen-and not just to those "obvious perverts" often publicized because of some atrocity or minor horror…
The young generation is much more open, more talkative, and more free-swinging, it would seem, than the staid and puritanical upbringing of many. Which is the correct mode of behavior? Is there indeed a "correct" way of life?
We continue now with the narrative of one couple's exchanging experiences:
"The pillow I'd so anxiously tucked under my bead was in the way now. Angrily, it seemed, Lance jerked it out from under me and threw it to one side-off the bed, I think. He wasn't quite so gentle then.
"Each time he pistoned into my head, fastening it down like a bolt into the tufted mattress, I felt a bit gagged. There was no tenderness in the way he was behaving now. I pinched desperately at his ass cheeks until be eased a bit and went into a slow and nicely rhythmic drilling pattern. When he'd slid in full length I found myself sucking up some of his frizzy pubic hairs each time I inhaled. They tickled, but it wasn't altogether an unpleasant experience -not even when my nose would be scrunched up against his bone and I couldn't breathe at all.
"Dawn and Terry were both moaning loudly. Their grunts and loud ragged breathing acted like an aphrodisiac on my already weakened and virtually nonexistent resistance. As if I were getting charged up by listening to the explicit sound track of a stag flick, I found my own breathing coming in shorter and hoarser gasps-when I could breathe, that is. Terry's moans sounded like roaring gurgles while Dawn sort of mewed and purred as she slurped up the juices oozing out of my cunt.
"I even imagined hearing Terry's balls slapping up against the crack of Dawn's ass and the squishing sounds that become so familiar in sex. Dazedly I found myself composing an orgiast's symphony for a recording and stag flick background music. It would be solely the sounds of high passion in front of a backdrop of jet black velvet with a fountain spurting come over the 'actors and actresses.' That would make a freaky flick, I thought dreamily as I replaced the fountain with Terry's and Lance's cocks joined together at the side. How about that? Identical, Siamese, cock twins? Freaky?
"My arms felt heavy and they limply fell over my belly where they began the self-caressing that I've so often enjoyed. I stretched them as far as I could and finally came into contact with the ash-blonde stray tangles of Dawn's hair.
I toyed with them absentmindedly and soon found out that this touch electrified her still more. I strained for more, found it, and burrowed the very tips of my grasping finger nails into her young scalp.
"I would have told her how good she was, but I don't usually talk with such a delicious mouthful. And Lance was, delicious! I decided to concentrate more on him. Terry and my cunt were taking good enough care of Dawn.
"Lance was almost on all fours as he lifted himself up and pummeled my mouth.
His aim was extremely good-Look, ma, no hands!-even considering the few times his shaft didn't slide straight back but instead squirmed and flopped around almost aimlessly, masochistically jabbing itself between my viselike teeth.
"I forced myself to rise up a bit, just enough to make my arms longer so I could reach Dawn's face and pull her further into my dripping cunt. I felt the twin exhausts of her delicate nostrils clearing fleeting paths in my pussy hairs and she only pulled away to inhale and catch her second wind.
"Terry yelled out as if something or someone had just stabbed him in the balls.
'Oooooohhh!' -Whooshhhhhhhhhhh-'You friggin' cock milking cunt sucking ass waving prick wired mother fucking daughter of a bitch!!'
All in one long gasping and ragged breath, high pitched and obviously on the verge of shooting off his third load of the day. I smiled with parched and quivering lips. That was his high compliment. Not too many broads got that kind of approval first time round the bush with my old man! I was glad he liked her.
I know' I did, and I wanted to see and taste much, much more of this nineteen-year-old swinger. Much more!
"Lance couldn't hold out as well as my old man. I felt sorry about it because I was just be ginning to like the feel of his sleek rod in my mouth. No scream, no loud grunting gurgles… just kind of 'Uhhhhhh, sssssstttttt!' with a loud sucking in of his bated breath. I drank greedily of his come-shooting fountain, disappointed in that there wouldn't be much more of that. Not for a while at least. Damn!
"I could tell that Lance wasn't much of a talker. I like talkers, Terry and I both do. Well, I figured, maybe we'd train Lance properly in time. Even my careful and logical reasoning powers couldn't stop the feeling of total emptiness when Lance's cock plopped noisily out of my mouth and he deflated like a mannequin-shaped balloon. For, someone having such a sweet cock he wasn't too experienced. Not yet. Now, Dawn was a different bag altogether. I wondered how the two of them ever got together. Hmmm.
"Lance curled up to one side of me and promptly and rudely dozed off. At least I think be did. I did, however, manage to retrieve the by now badly battered and flattened pillow and stuff it back under my head.
"It didn't hurt to open my eyes this time. Dawn was oblivious to the world and hung up on her own sex bag-gobble at one end and be gobbled at the other. Terry was having himself a real good time, I could tell. He had Dawn in a weird portrayal of a wheelbarrow with her ass up high and her legs seeming to be coiled around his neck. From the noises at that end and the up-down fast bobbing motion between Dawn's legs, I knew that Terry was gobbling the come that was by now dripping out of her ass.
"I wanted to scream, 'Do me! Someone give me something to hold on to!' but I knew damn well that not one of my trio of bed partners would hear me or do anything about it if they did.