Playing With Fire Ch. 01

Author's note: I would like to thank SwingingHoosier for providing the inspiration for this tale.

This is the first of three chapters. I am submitting them one day apart, although they may not be posted on the same schedule.

This story involves people who have sex outside of the marriage. No fictional characters were harmed in the writing of this story, and neither were any fictional marriages. If you don't like these types of stories...you're in the wrong category!

*****

My name is Tom, but on that particular fateful night roughly five years ago, that wasn't the name my wife was screaming as she was being fucked good and hard on our bed.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, let me clarify that I was the one who was fucking her. You see, we had been doing a bit of role-playing at that time, and on that particular night, she had chosen the name of "Dale" as her imaginary lover.

We had been married for twenty-four years, and our eldest son had just moved out of the house, leaving us as empty-nesters for the first time in our lives. In the weeks thereafter, I noticed that Beth, my wife, had become very vocal in bed. We had endured so many years being as quiet as possible in bed, I honestly never realized she had it in her. But the moment Donnie left for college, she seemed to let her hair down a little.

Maybe it was hormonal, or maybe it was the fact that she had started exercising again, and was feeling sexier than usual. I didn't care why her sex drive suddenly went into overdrive; I was simply enjoying the ride. Prior to that, our sex life had become duller and more seldom with each passing year.

Free from having to be quiet all the time, she began talking dirty while we had sex. I have to say, it was a major turn-on for me. The things she would say would make her friends at church blush, and those frumpy old women in her bookclub would never have suspected that there was such a dirty little slut hidden beneath that prim and proper exterior.

As we reached middle age together, Beth and I began to talk about all the things we'd like to do before we get too old to do them. We talked about traveling, and scuba diving, and other types of adventurous activities that we never had the time nor freedom to pursue while being tethered to the house for so many years. Inevitably, that discussion morphed into a conversation about our sexual fantasies. Being the hornier of the two, I was the one who prompted that particular discussion.

"Don't you have any wild oats you want to sow before it's too late?" I asked her.

She hesitated for a good, long time, and scrunched up her face as if she were deep in thought. "No, not really," she said. We had this conversation about our sexual fantasies before, and she always had the same response.

"Come on," I said. "You're either the only woman in the world who doesn't fantasize, or you're just afraid to share those fantasies with me."

That comment seemed to push the right buttons. "Okay," she said, "I've always wanted to have sex in a public place. You know, somewhere where we might get caught."

I never would have guessed that there was even the slightest exhibitionist streak in my shy and quiet wife. I couldn't help but react with shock, and she gave me a playful slap on the shoulder.

"See?" she said. "That's why I didn't want to tell you! I knew you'd react that way."

"I'm just surprised, that's all," I said. "We can make that happen, you know. I can think of a few places we could go where the risk would be pretty low, but good enough to add some danger."

"I don't actually want to do it!" she barked. "It's just a fantasy. You asked me about my fantasy."

"Okay, fair enough," I said, "but I'm just letting you know, if you ever want to make that fantasy a reality, I'm game for it."

"You're game for anything," she teased. I could almost hear the gears grinding in her brain as she considered the possibility. "What about you? What fantasies do you have?"

Even though I knew the question was coming, I still wasn't prepared for it. There are certain fantasies a man shares with his wife, and others that he leaves to himself. I had to be a little "politically correct" in my response, or it may have provoked a meltdown.

"I've always thought it would be fun to do a little role-playing," I said. "Maybe have you dress up as a schoolgirl or a cheerleader."

"In other words, you want to pretend you're with another woman," she said. Uh-oh. This was exactly the type of meltdown I was hoping to avoid.

"No, not at all," I assured her. "I love you, honey, you know that. And you're the only woman I've ever wanted."

"Mmm-hmm." She wasn't buying it. "I know all you guys fantasize about being with other women."

"Actually," I said, "my biggest fantasy would be to see you with another man."

The words escaped from my lips before I realized I had said them. It was almost as if I didn't say it myself, like I was watching a play and some character on stage just uttered the dumbest line of dialog I'd ever heard. This was my deepest, darkest secret - the type of fantasy a man keeps to himself. I had kept it locked away for years, and never for a moment considered sharing that particular fantasy with my wife.

I don't even know why I had this strange desire. I just knew that whenever I had the urge to masturbate, that was the go-to fantasy that would get me "over the hump," so to speak. Whenever I searched for porn, I found that more often than not, I would look for videos of men sharing their wives with other men. There were so many of them, I figured it must be a common fantasy. Still, it wasn't one that I was willing to share with anyone - especially my wife.

The words were out now, just hanging in the air. I couldn't take them back. My breathing stopped, and with each passing second during the interminable pause that followed my confession, I regretted it more and more. Finally, just as I was about to yell out "just kidding" or "April fools", she spoke.

"You're sick," she said, simply. I could tell by the way she said it that she was teasing me, and that brought a great sense of relief.

"I know," I said, "but you knew that when you married me." She gave me a playful slap.

"Why on earth would you even say something like that?" she asked, rubbing her hands through my chest hair in a suddenly seductive way.

"I don't know. It's just a fantasy. You wanted to know."

She paused a moment longer, and her hand slowly moved from my chest, down my abdomen. "So, you'd like to see me wrap my fingers around some other man's cock...like this?"

I had never heard her use the word "cock" before. That word alone, never mind what she began doing with her hand, provoked an instant sensation of warmth and swelling. She squeezed and stroked me slowly, and I could hear her breathing heavily.

"Maybe you'd like to see me wrap my lips around that cock," she said. She lowered her mouth over my swollen member and perched herself just above my cock head. I could feel her warm breath, and it drove me crazy. Without warning, she plunged her entire mouth over my shaft, taking half my length into her mouth, holding it there, and then withdrawing with an audible slurping sound.

"Mmm..." she said, "you have such a nice cock...Brad."

Brad? Who is Brad?

"Who the hell is Brad?" I asked.

She took me into her mouth once more, slowly and seductively. "You're just some random guy I met on the streets," she informed me. "Isn't that right, Brad?"

Before I could respond, I felt the warm, soft, moistness envelope my cock once more. This time, she took me deeper inside her mouth. It felt as though she took the entire length into her mouth - something she hadn't done in years. Her apparent lack of a gag reflex was something that always astounded me when we began dating in college, but it was a trick she seemed to abandon early into our marriage.

She continued to slowly work her luscious lips up and down my shaft, and I could feel myself reaching the edge of a powerful climax. Just as I was about to warn her, though, she stopped.

"You're so big and hard, Brad," she said. "I think I need to feel that big, hard thing inside me."

I flipped her onto her back forcefully, and made my way south to give her some attention with my tongue, but she stopped me once more.

"Oh, no," she said, "we don't have time for that. My husband will be home any minute. Just fuck me, Brad. Nice and hard."

I didn't need to be asked twice. I positioned myself at her entrance and slid inside. I was shocked how slick she was, simply from this dirty role-playing. I'm embarrassed to say, I didn't last long. Within minutes, I felt myself unloading inside her as she screamed Brad's name and clawed at my back.

Over the next several weeks, our sex life had never been better. We introduced role-playing into nearly every session, and it seemed to give us both a fresh, new, and exciting boost to our libidos. Apparently, Beth enjoyed my fantasy as much as I did. I felt like a young stud again, and my prim and proper wife transformed into an insatiable, sexually-adventurous minx.

And then came that night five years ago. We were having sex in our now-usual manner. Each time we role-played, Beth would choose a name for the man she was with. She claimed these were random names, although I recognized a few of them as our burly next-door neighbor, the young man who mows our lawn, and her friend at the office. I never said anything about recognizing those names, as I knew she would never admit to it, anyway.

On this particular night, the name she chose was "Dale."

"Yes!" she screamed, as I forcefully pounded into her, holding her hands above her head so that she couldn't move them. "Fuck me, Dale! Fuck that pussy like you mean it!"

She was so wet, each thrust resulted in a loud squishing sound, and I could feel her wetness seep onto the sheets beneath us, creating a large, cool puddle. She spread her legs as wide as they would stretch, and she emitted such a loud groan that it made my ears ring. I then followed with a loud groan of my own, and felt one massive surge after another erupt through my shaft, filling her completely.

I collapsed onto the bed beside her, completely exhausted, and soaked in sweat.

"Wow," she said. I couldn't respond, as I was breathing so heavily, it felt as though a lung would collapse.

She placed her head on my chest, and I wrapped my arm around her. I could feel my heart pounding right where her head was lying. My chest heaved, causing her head to rise and fall.

"So, I was thinking," she said, with seeming hesitance. I remained silent, waiting for her to finish her sentence. "Our big anniversary is coming up, and I want to do something special for you."

Little did she know, I had already made special plans for our twenty-fifth anniversary. I had invited all of our friends and family to gather for a surprise party, to be held the weekend after the big day. I played along, and asked her what she had in mind. I never could have imagined her response.

"Well, I know that you have had this fantasy of seeing me with another man," she said. I could hear the nervousness in her voice. Was she seriously proposing what I thought she was proposing? Or was she testing me? I decided to remain quiet, and allow her to explain.

"I've told you many times that I don't want to do that," she continued, "and that you're the only man I ever need or want. But I know it's been such a big fantasy of yours for so long, and I feel bad for denying you that experience."

She hesitated once again, anticipating some sort of response. I had no idea what to say. My mind raced with many different thoughts. She was right; it had been a fantasy of mine for many years. But did I really want that fantasy to become a reality? Could I really stand to see her with another man?

"Honey," I said, "I think it's really sweet that you'd even consider such a thing, but..."

I wasn't sure how to finish that question, as I was still torn about the question at hand, so I just left the sentence hanging.

"I've been doing some research online," she announced. "If we were to really consider this, I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it alone. But I think that it might be a fun thing to explore together."

"Thing? What thing? What are you talking about?"

"There's this nightclub nearby," she said. "I found a message board for...married people who...you know, have sex with others. Together."

"You mean swingers?"

"Well...yeah."

I was grateful the lights were off, so she couldn't see the expression on my face. Although I was appreciative of the fact that she would even consider something so outrageous, I was in shock at the same time. Who was this woman in bed with me?

"Honey, I don't know..."

"I don't, either, which is why this club is perfect. It's just a nightclub, where people go to meet, drink and dance. That's all that happens there. They don't allow any sex or anything like that. I figure we could go, hang out, and see what it's all about. If we decide it's not for us, then that's fine. But I figured it would be something new and fun. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"

I began to answer, but then stopped myself. I came up with a different response, but failed to let that one escape my lips as well. I was dumbstruck. On the one hand, I couldn't imagine becoming a swinger. It was such an outlandish concept that I had never considered it before, even in my wildest fantasies. But on the other hand, Beth had really put herself out there, and she seemed excited about the idea. She was just beginning to come out of her shell and embrace her sexuality. The last thing I wanted was to squelch her newfound adventurousness and make her feel "dirty" or "perverted."

"I guess that wouldn't be so bad," I said, at last.

"Gee, don't get too excited," she said, sarcastically.

"No, I mean it would be fun. And like you said, it's just a nightclub. We haven't been dancing in years. Let's do it!"

***

We arrived at the address, and discovered that it was a strip club. Somehow, Beth had failed to mention this when she told me about the nightclub. I paid our entrance fee, and asked about the nightclub. I braced myself for the expression of disgust or raised eyebrows from the man behind the counter, but it was obvious that he had seen and heard it all before. He simply pointed to a set of stairs.

As Beth and I ascended the stairs, my heart was racing, and I could feel the adrenaline course through my veins. Beth gripped my hand so tightly, I lost all circulation. The bass from the music in the strip club on the bottom floor made the walls shake. I opened the door to the nightclub, and it was so dark inside that it took a moment for my eyes to adjust.

It was a large, mostly empty, room, filled with sofas and lounge chairs, a large dance floor, and a long bar off to the right. Dance music played from a speaker system, loudly enough that I had to lean in close to Beth to tell her we should sit at the bar. I could smell the perfume she wore that night, and it made my heart flutter.

As she walked toward the bar ahead of me, I couldn't help but notice how amazing she looked. All of the hours she spent at the gym clearly paid dividends. She wore a short skirt that night, and her legs appeared smooth and toned. Her round ass was perfectly-shaped, and wriggled seductively as she strode toward the bar. She removed her coat, revealing a tight-fitting blouse that displayed her ample cleavage. Her long, curly red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and when she gave me a nervous smile, that precious dimple on her left cheek made my heart melt once more.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked as we sat. She was a full-figured woman with large breasts that strained against her tight-fitting top. She had a cute, round face, but covered it up with a little too much makeup.

I ordered a beer for me and a glass of wine for Beth. Beth wasn't much of a drinker, and I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen her drunk since we married. On this night, however, I could tell that she would need a little extra "liquid courage" to get through the night.

In the days since she proposed coming to this club, we had spent the better part of each day discussing all the pro's and con's of pushing this particular envelope. In the end, we decided to "go with the flow" and simply see where the evening would lead us.

"Your first time here?" the bartender asked. We both nodded, with an awkward smile. "My name is Julie, by the way." She extended her hand in my direction.

Given the scandalous nature of this nightclub, I wasn't sure if we were supposed to use our real names or make up aliases. I opted to give her our real names, concluding that it wouldn't make a difference either way.

"Is it always so busy?" I asked her, sarcastically, pointing to the mostly-empty room. She looked at her watch.

"It's still really early," she noted. "The party doesn't usually get started until around 11:00 or so."

"We were told the club opens at 9:00," Beth said.

Julie smiled. "It does," she said, "but I guess it takes a while for people to get going."

As we continued to chat, I noticed that Beth's grip on my hand had eased a bit as she became more comfortable with her surroundings. I'm sure the wine had something to do with that, as she downed it rather quickly. By the time she was finished with her second glass, the nightclub began to fill with couples.

I couldn't help but notice that they all appeared to be near our age. Most of them carried a few too many pounds, and yet they all seemed so confident, and so comfortable in their own skin, they became more attractive. They were all dressed in sexy and stylish clothing. It seemed as though all the women were well-endowed, and showed little modesty in displaying their assets. As I scanned the room, I couldn't help but notice that Beth was the most attractive woman in the club - which boosted my ego quite a bit.

Although everyone at the club seemed to be friendly and outgoing, we hadn't engaged in conversation with anyone aside from the bartender since arriving at the club ninety minutes earlier. The DJ began playing a decent song, and I grabbed Beth by the waist and escorted her out on to the dance floor.

I watched her sway her hips to the beat, and I couldn't help but smile. She was so beautiful, and she looked so carefree and happy. I couldn't wait to get her home, rip her clothes off, and release some of the pent-up energy I was feeling simply by absorbing the sexy atmosphere of the club.

As we danced, I noticed that quite a few couples surrounding us were dancing in such an erotic way, it was almost as if they were having sex fully-clothed. Two couples were dancing to my left, and they had formed a sort of four-way sandwich, with the women held between the two men. The women began kissing each other, and I tapped Beth on the shoulder and gave her a wild-eyed look until she turned in that direction. Her gorgeous green eyes sparkled, and she giggled and squeezed my hand.

We remained on the dance floor for two more songs before making our way back to our seats at the bar. I stood at the bar to order another wine for Beth, and she excused herself to the ladies room.

"How's it going?" the guy next to me said as we hunched over the bar, trying to get the bartender's attention.

"Good," I said. "Great, actually."

"I'm Roger," he said, extending his hand.

"Tom," I responded, and shook his hand. He had a strong, firm, handshake that matched his bulky physique. He wore a black tee-shirt that appeared to be a size too small, with a graphic design on it that I notice a lot of older guys wearing, who are trying to look younger.

"You're new here," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Is it that obvious?" I asked with a laugh.