Swapped
Swapped Copyright © 2013 Keaton Quist
To Mr. Inspiration: Thank you for not being Tom.
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Swapped
By Keaton Quist
Stiff Rain Press
http://www.StiffRainPress.com
Swapped
Copyright © 2013 Keaton Quist
Edited by Tiffany Mason
Cover Art by Les Byerley
Published by Stiff Rain Press
2665 N Atlantic Avenue, #349
Daytona Beach, FL 32118
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-62344-016-9
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic Release: August 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or nt-family:'tim
To Mr. Inspint-family:'tim
Chapter One
Tom seemed tense. We’d fought over my clothes before the party. According to him, everything I wore just wasn’t sexy enough.
“What does it matter?” I argued. I smoothed the straight black skirt I’d put on.
“You look like a librarian, Malory,” he replied.
“We’re meeting your work associates at your boss’ home. I’d rather no>To Mr. Inspiration: Thank you for not being Tom.tsh ht look like a hooker,” I snapped.
“Like you could,” he grumbled snidely.
Furious, I stormed away. What the hell was wrong with him? For some reason, my husband was being a dick. Maybe he was nervous—who the hell knew?—but this would be the first company party we’d attended since he’d started his job with Newman and Associates last year. It was a small firm of five lawyers, including Tom, so I could see why he wanted to make the best of impressions. So why on earth did he want me to wear my smuttiest clothes? Not that I had anything too sexy. My wardrobe is trendy-conservative at best.
Grabbing my upper arm, he dragged me back toward the master bedroom of our ranch-style home.
“Let go of me,” I demanded as I yanked away. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Rubbing my arm, I glared at him. Tom wasn’t abusive, per se, but when he was stressed, he tended to be rougher than usual. That seemed to be more and more lately, and I was nearing the edge of my tolerance.
With a huff, he stormed over to our closet and threw open the doors. Rifling through the clothes, he came to a clingy, red dress in the back. It would hug my curves and fall barely to mid-thigh. I’d worn it to a club once but had never had it on again. Tom had been pissed about the male attention it had drawn that night. And now he wanted me to wear it to a work function? It made no sense.
“This one,” he insisted.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You hate that outfit.”
“Not really. You look fantastic in it.”
“Whatever.” I shook my head and took the hanger from him. This called for entirely different undergarments than I had on—as in just about none. “Fair warning, if the other wives think I’m a slut, you’re getting a new job. I’m not putting up with them whispering about me at every function.”
“They won’t.”
I made a disbelieving sound, gathered alternate lingerie then disappeared into the bathroom. I shut the door firmly behind me, making it clear with my final look at him that I was thoroughly disgusted at him.
I had a good body, slim but curvy. My hips, breasts and tiny waist formed a classic hourglass worthy of a fifties-style pinup. I secretly loved the way it looked in clingy clothes, but being a lawyer’s wife, I avoided dressing provocatively. My husband’s aspirations demanded my diligence to modesty.
At the moment, he suffered from a bout of insanity from which I should save him, but I was just pissed off enough about his dickish behavior that I was letting him make his own bed.
I stripped off the sweater and skirt I’d planned to wear then shoved off the cotton panties, bra and pantyhose. Carefully, I rolled on gossamer-like thigh-high stockings then pulled on a skimpy silk bra that clung to my skin, giving my breasts enough support without leaving more than the faintest of lines.
There would be no panties, leaving me vulnerable and increasingly worked up. If Tom wasn’t suffering from disinterest tonight, maybe I’d jump him. Lately though, my dildo was getting more time than he was. He never seemed turned on enough to get really hard or excited, which made me feel like crap. Apparently, he’d pretty much lost all attraction to me.rem;
}
.C_Current__And__id’l
Tom wasn’t in the bedroom when I came out. Shocker. I figured he was probably in the living room pacing because I’d taken so long, but when I got there, he was nowhere to be found. Just when I’d decided he’d left without me, he came in from the garage.
“Ready?” he asked, barely looking at me.
“I guess so. Remember this was your idea,” I warned him.
He gave a faint smile. “No worries, Malory.” He jerked a head to the garage. “Let’s go.”
I nodded and headed for the car. We drove in silence, pretty much a standard nowadays, and I wondered if we needed to do something to shake up our marriage. A vacation or extreme sports or couples’ therapy. Something to make us talk and get us out of the humdrum existence we’d fallen into.
Something.
Staring out the window, I tumbled around the ideas in my head. I had plenty of time to consider options. The party was at his boss Jayson’s, the Newman of Newman and Associates. Jayson lived on the other side of the city, forty-five minutes away. It took us a little longer. A light snow had started and demanded Tom’s concentration. Still, before I was ready, we arrived at the hulking home. Good lord, it was…a mini-mansion. Huge but not something like featured on tabloid TV when they talked about celebrities’ homes.
Butterflies tumbled in my stomach. Meeting new people and socializing with them made me nervous, and this wasn’t any different. Since these were work associates, the stakes were even higher. I had to make a good impression. With my dress, so inappropriate for a dinner party, I figured I already had a check or two against me.
“We’re late,” Tom muttered.
“You shouldn’t have made me change,” I countered. We would have been on time if he hadn’t been so pushy about my clothes.
“Jayson said to just go in,” he replied, choosing to ignore me.
“Fine,” I growled. My dildo,
not
Tom, would be getting lucky tonight. His dick could join him and his hand on the couch, I decided as we walked into the opulent foyer of the two-story, blond-brick house. This was the dream home Barbie had really wanted, not that thing Mattel tried to sell girls. Tom and I could fit three or four of our place into this hulking structure.
I gaped at the marble accoutrements, awestruck and feeling way out of my league in my stretchy red dress. I wanted to grab the hem and yank it down my legs, but that would create a different problem.
Just when I was about to demand the car keys so I could leave, all thought of my appearance fled, evaporating as a stunning sound reached my ears. My head whipped around, and my eyes went wide. Three couples, in various stages of undress, were getting it on in the living room. Even more, I’d met all of Tom’s co-workers and their wives on various occasions in the office, and I recognized each of them, naked or not. Worse—could there really be a worse? God, yes, there could—none of the couplings matched what I knew. Not one man or wife was with his or her spouse.
“Tom,” I hissed. “What’s going on?”
I had a very good idea, and my stomach roiled. Panicked, I edged toward escape. And I’d been worried about my dress? These people wererem;
}
.C_Current__And__id’l fucking on the boss’ living room furniture!
Tom grinned as he watched his associates—three black men. Their wives were all white, and I watched the interplay, mesmerized by the beauty of their contrasting flesh. Tom and I were the minority here. Jayson, currently missing from the copulating mix, was also black. From what I remembered, his wife was, too.
I stared transfixed as I watched one of the partners pull someone else’s wife over his cock. She moaned loudly when she sank onto the long length. Her head dropping back, she bounced on it and held her breasts while fingering her nipples.
Her husband had yet another man’s wife pinned to the wall. Her pale legs were twined behind him while his hips slammed into her. “Yes! Fuck me harder!” she cried as I watched his ebony ass flex with each hard drive.
I crossed my arms over my breasts, gawking and ashamed that my body was reacting to the scene before me. My breasts were throbbing, and if I’d been watching the same scene in a movie, I would have been stroking myself and imagining one of those cocks in me.
“You know that TV show,” Tom said. “Wife Swap? The guys in the firm created their own version of it. They run their own wife swap for one three-day weekend every month.”
“What the fuck, Tom!” I exclaimed, not caring at this point if anyone else heard. Despite my arousal, reality pummeled into me. For lack of a better term, Jayson Newman and his associates were swingers. And apparently, my husband wanted to join the club. Why he thought that gave him carte blanche to incorporate the alternative lifestyle into our marriage, I’d never know. I’d been faithful to him for the ten years we’d been married, and as far as I knew, he’d never strayed outside our bed either. Maybe I’d been a fool to believe that. He seemed to have no problem with the idea of swapping me and grabbing someone else’s wife.
I’d felt like crap before over his lack of interest; now, I felt worthless. My bottom lip quivered as the emotion hit me, and I bit it to keep from showing my hurt. Tom was an asshole, and I’d been brought to a den of lust to drive home the point.
“Bad form, Tom,” Jayson said, coming up behind us. His hands slid over my hips with more familiarity than he should have had. “You were supposed to tell her before you got here.”
“I never would have gotten her into the car,” Tom replied with a shrug. “Everyone’s paired up. Does that mean Sizzy’s mine?”
“Oh yeah, all yours, baby,” Sizzy answered. The stunning, light-skinned black woman sidled up to him then laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down for her kiss. My stomach dropping to my feet, I watched him hungrily devour her lips, growling as he closed his eyes and consumed her.
Anger and despair slashed through me. This couldn’t be happening!
“Never been to a swinger’s party?” Jayson asked, his hand creeping farther along my hip. I was too distracted to push it away as I speechlessly stared wide-eyed at my husband and Jayson’s wife.
Stepping back from Tom, Sizzy stripped off her thin jersey dress and let it fall to the foyer floor. Tom jerked her to him and opened his mouth on her breast while he fingered her cunt.
“Tom!” I gasped, but both of them ignored me. Jayson’s fingers tightened on me.+ar">“Noear
While Tom sucked, Sizzy reached her hand to his pants and kneaded his cock through the fabric of his khakis. He thrust into her fingers. She turned and grinned triumphantly at Jayson then put her lips to Tom’s ear and whispered something.
After a moment, they disengaged and walked hand-in-hand into the large living room. I watched them go then I realized there were more people here than I’d originally thought. My husband’s secretary was going down on some guy I didn’t recognize. His cock thrust into her mouth while another man pushed up her skirt. He shoved his hand between her thighs. As I watched his fingers sink into her pussy, my own thighs shook. My cunt flooded with my slick juice when I wondered what it would be like to experience sex with even one man I didn’t know.
My breathing grew ragged as I saw the secretary’s cream making the guy’s fingers shiny while he rapidly pumped them into the woman’s cunt. Her hips shook as she worked with him, fucking his fingers. All of a sudden, he shoved at his pants and without any pause drove his dick into her. She screamed her pleasure around the shaft in her mouth.
Jayson bumped closer to me, his cock pressing to my ass as his body pressed flush to me. His hand was flat on my tummy now, his fingers splaying dangerously close to my pussy. Only the thin fabric of my dress separated him from my throbbing vagina. His fingers curled, barely cupping me, and a tremor rocked through me.
“Quite a show, isn’t it?” he murmured.
“Did Tom know what this party was about?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. I just couldn’t accept that my husband would do this to me.