The Ladies Who Lunch Pt. 01

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It all started innocently enough, one lunchtime…

It was during one of their customary, weekly lunchtime meetings at the Old Bull, a quaint little hostelry in the village. The Bull was a popular meeting place – a pub-cum-restaurant-cum-inn – and a major gathering venue in their quiet little community in the heart of the West Sussex countryside, but still within commuting distance from London, where their husbands worked (at ‘something in the city’).

The ladies knew each other from the various social and charitable associations active in the area, such as the WI and the local Golf Club, or through their husbands’ professional and social activities. Some of their husbands were colleagues In ‘The City’ and so the ladies were acquainted for many years.

They were all ladies of leisure, from well-to-do middle-class backgrounds and had agreed, some years ago, to meet once a week for lunch.

Was it a respite from their endless round of committees and voluntary activities or, perhaps, it was the boredom of their privileged existence?

For the most part, the conversation revolved around trivial banalities such as the family holidays, or problems with the ‘au pair’, so that when the subject of ‘sex’ came up, it was like a bombshell that shook and unsettled their ostensibly bland, orderly, and uneventful suburban ethos.

No-one now remembers how it came up, it was probably in the context of marital infidelity, or wife-swapping or some such thing.

Anyway, during the frenzied discussion that followed, Brooke Osmond had confessed that she and her husband had once been ‘unsuspecting participants’ in an impromptu ‘swinger’ party. Brooke was a relatively recent member of their group, and this had occurred before they moved to the area.

The rest of the ladies were titillated and enthralled, as Brooke related the events of that evening three years previously. Brooke’s husband was English, and she was American.

Brooke spoke with a Mid-western, accent in a free-and-easy, ‘down home’ style, which gave her narrative an even more remote, other-worldly aspect as they listened to her tale unfold.

Brooke went into the titillating detail of her night of steamy ‘swap sex’ with the muscular well-endowed Simon, and so, setting the precedent that was to shape their weekly lunches, thereafter.

It was agreed that each week, one of them would reveal some deep, dark, dirty personal secret, as the price of admission to the lunch.

However, in order to protect the confidentiality and privacy of the participants, it was considered fitting that a more private venue would have to be chosen.

The general consensus was that local pub was not an appropriate location for a confessional so, consequently, it was agreed, that after the lunch, each lady in turn would host the others to coffee at home. when ‘all would be revealed’ in more discreet and comfortable surroundings.

Part 1: The Brooke Osmond Story

Well, we’d just recently moved into the neighbourhood. It isn’t around here, and don’t ask me the location, because I want to be discreet and respect the confidentiality of the people involved.

About a month after we’d moved in, my husband Tony, and I were invited to a party by Janet and Simon, our neighbours across the road from us. Seeing as we were new to the area, the party was an opportunity to meet the neighbours, and others from the locality.

The party was going well, and the drink was flowing smoothly, but I couldn’t help but notice that Janet was blatantly flirting with Tony. She was all over him, during the slow, smoochy dances, her arms clasped around his neck and provocatively grinding her body against his crotch.

I’m not the jealous type, but what struck me was that her husband, Simon, appeared to be totally non-plussed by his wife’s brazen, unseemly behaviour, which he couldn’t have helped but notice. Instead, he was lavishing a lot of attention on me! He’s a good-looking guy so, it was very flattering for a forty-something woman like me.

Full disclosure: I am eight years older than Tony. I was thirty-three and Tony was in his mid-twenties when we married.

Janet and Simon were in their mid to late thirties, and both very attractive. They owned and ran the local gym and fitness centre so, you can imagine they were both in great physical shape!

Janet was tall, sinewy, and shapely in all the right places. Simon wasn’t, what you’d call a ‘Mr. Universe’, but he had well-developed biceps and broad shoulders, with a flat wash-board stomach and, as it turned out, very well hung!

The throng of revellers was gradually thinning out as the evening wore on. Couples started to depart, and though I didn’t know escort gaziantep bayan numaraları everyone there, I had the distinct impression that people were leaving with partners other than the ones they had arrived with.

When all the guests had finally departed, there was just the four of us left: me and Tony, and Janet and Simon. It was at this point that our neighbours’ intentions became crystal clear.

Janet, just came straight out and proposed that, in view of how well we got on that evening, why don’t we swap partners for the night?

This was a strange, new situation for Tony and me, though we were not totally unprepared.

Tony requested a few minutes ‘time-out’. He said that it was the first time that we found ourselves in this predicament so, he and I needed to talk it over, before we could give them a definitive answer.

They were very gracious hosts and Simon replied that we could take as much time as we needed. In any case, Janet said, there was a lot of clearing away and tidying up to do, so they’d get on with that, until we’d decided.

I interjected and appealed to Janet not to rush with the clearing up, and that we’d happily give them a hand.

Now, the truth is, Tony and I considered that we had an ‘open’ relationship, although we had always been faithful to each other in the fifteen years we’d been married.

Even though the circumstances to test our fidelity had never arisen, we had often discussed how we would react if we ever found ourselves in exactly such a dilemma.

We had agreed, in principle, that given the circumstances, neither of us would object to a one-off, casual, extra-marital fling by the other, so long as it was done with the full knowledge and consent of both parties – no lies, no subterfuge – honesty and openness above all!

After all, the objective would not be to embark on a new, long-term emotional relationship, but just a brief, recreational diversion with the full knowledge and understanding of the nature of the transaction by all concerned.

So, there was only one question for which the answer is a binary “Yes” or “No”:

To me: do you fancy him? To him: do you fancy her?

And so, huddled together, to one side and out of earshot of our hosts, the answer in both instances, was a resounding, “YES”!

It was a case of deal done! Game on! We turned to our hosts and delivered our decision in unison:

“Yes, we’d love to!”

Janet squealed and leapt up and down with joy then, after they’d embraced each other, Janet leapt on Tony and hugged him, and Simon embraced and kissed me.

He whispered, “I hope this will be the first of many unforgettable nights!”

The men high-fived and patted each other on the back, and Simon gave Tony some grounding on swap etiquette.

For example, use of a condom is mandatory; as for the sex, everything goes but within the limits of what the woman will allow or accept to perform.

We seemed to be getting carried away in the euphoria of the moment, until I remembered my promise to help with the clearing up, and blurted out:

“Come on, guys, let’s get the clearing up done so that we can go to bed!”

“Oh, fuck the clearing up, let’s hit the sack! We’ll clear up in the morning.” Janet exclaimed.

She instructed Simon, and Tony to collect any glasses and plates that might be dotted around the garden, and that she and I would retire to our respective bedrooms, to wait for them.

“Is that cool with you, Brooke?” she asked. Nodding, I said, “Sure,” and with that, Janet and I scooted off to our bedrooms.

Apparently, this was another piece of swap etiquette: unless it was a gang-bang style swap party, the type in which we would never and have never participated, the swap couples always convened in the home of the female, so that the woman was receiving her swap partner in her own bedroom.

As I departed, I told Simon that I would leave the front door on the latch, so that he could get in, in case I was indisposed at the time. A necessary piece of information, as I had in mind to take a shower.

So, there I was, in my ensuite shower, lathered up from shoulders to my feet and rinsing off the foamy lather, when the shower-curtain swished open, and there stood Simon, with nothing on, but a grin on his face.

The shower was an old-style telephone spray head on a hose, above the bathtub with a plastic curtain to contain the water spray within the bathtub.

“Hi, room for me in there?” he asks.

“Sure, come on in, the water’s lovely!” I replied, stepping aside to let him in. His cock swung from side-to-side as he stepped over the side of the bath, into the tub.

Other than his broad, chiselled upper escort bayan gaziantep reklamları body, his cock was the only other impressive feature about Simon’s appearance at that moment. Tony’s cock was probably slightly longer, but Simon’s was thicker and circumcised, with a fat, bulbous tip

At six foot, two Simon’s tight, fit sinewy body towered over me. He leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, and my reflex was to stretch my arms and cross my wrists about his neck. I was still holding the foamy sponge in one hand.

While our mouths melded – he was a great kisser – I brought my hands down the front of his body, sponging and stroking his body as I worked my way down to his crotch. With one hand, I held his shaft, while with the other, I applied a frothy foam and lathered up his genitals, from the tip of his cock to his testicles.

Simon slid his palms into my armpits, his thumbs under my breasts, which he rotated, pressing on my tits and brushing over my nipples in a slow, firm motion.

I extricated my mouth from his and turned off the shower’s flow. Then, I begun to kiss, and suck, and nip his skin, all the way down to his midriff then, on down, onto his thick, cock tip, along his stiffening shaft, and onto his smooth, hairless ball sack.

He moaned as I sucked him off and basted his heavy testicles with my tongue, taking each one in my mouth in turn. He said, that if I continued that much longer, he’d come all over my face.

“Well, in that case,” I said, smiling, “we’d better go to the bedroom, so you can come inside me – er, in a condom, of course!”

He laughed and drew me close in a tight embrace, and we kissed. His hard erection was pressed against my stomach and his tongue was playing billiards with my tonsils.

“Simon, fuck me! Fuck me now!” I pleaded.

“What about the condom?” he asks.

“Fuck that! Just pull out, I don’t care! Just, fuck me!” I protested.

At my age I wasn’t concerned about getting pregnant, in any case.

He scooped me up by my buttocks and raised me up onto his erection. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my legs around his waist and breathed out a long sigh of satisfaction, as I sank onto his thick shaft.

His cock stretched and filled me, but my pussy was already so wet I slid down, onto his cock easily.

My back pressed against the tiles of the wall above the bathtub, and my arms were folded tight about his neck as Simon oscillated in and out of me in controlled strokes.

He was alternating between deep, slow penetration and brisk, hard thrusts, where he was literally jamming his thick shaft into me, hard.

I dug my fingernails into his skin, as his vigorous pounding of my crotch proceeded unabated. His mouth was right up to my ear, and his heavy breath brushed my ear. I squealed and groaned with each thrust.

“This good for you, Brooke?” he whispered in my ear. “You’re a lovely fuck! D’you know that?”

“So are you!” I groaned.

“You like how I’m fucking you?” he panted in my ear.

“Yes! Yes! ‘S lovely!” I gasped. “Fuck me! Fuck me!” I pleaded. Not that he needed any encouragement.

I could feel my orgasm coming on, and I called out, “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Me too!” he declared, as my vagina contracted and twitched around his cock, with the onset of my orgasm.

Simon had the presence of mind to withdraw, and his ejaculation went all over my crotch, my inner thigh, and my butt. I guess he was trying to live up to, at least, the spirit of the ‘strictly condoms rule’.

Not that I would have minded if he came inside me, especially after the incredible fucking he’d given me! Somehow, it seemed it would have been more appropriate if he’d finished inside me.

But I don’t know, it may have been something as equally nuanced in the male mind, that has to do with claiming ownership of a woman’s vagina if he comes in it. That is, if he actually deposits his semen in her.

The rationale against such an eventuality, on the part of a male ‘swap partner’ is that after all, he is only borrowing the female partner’s vagina. He is literally swapping his wife’s / life partner’s vagina for hers, and so, has no ownership rights, as such.

Therefore, the call for barrier protection for purposes of contraception and protection against communicable disease, is a less condescending way of denying the man ‘ownership rights’ of every cunt he sticks his dick into, that is not his wife’s.

Anyway, putting that moot point aside, let’s get on with my adventures with the dishy Simon.

The shower was put back into operation, so that Simon and I could clean up our nether regions. So, we soaped and rinsed off each other’s respective parts, gaziantep escort kız telefonları and then, each wrapped in a towel over our lower half, we reconvened in the bedroom.

Simon scooped me up in his arms and carried me into the master bedroom, where he duly deposited me on the high-sided bed and discarded his towel. He then began to rummage through the clothing he’d removed earlier and extricated a pack of Durex, which he deposited on the bedside dresser furthest from me.

In the meanwhile, I had discarded my towel and pushed the bedcovers down to the foot of the bed.

Simon bounced onto the bed, next to me, and seizing my ankles, he spread my legs wide and fell into the vee of my open thighs, where he promptly begun to eat my pussy.

His tongue basted my pussy lips and titillated my clit, sucking and licking the whole architecture of my pussy. Then, he inserted his tongue into my, by now, very wet vagina. He probed it deeply, in the most intense tongue-fuck I’d ever experienced.

I was gripping the bedpost at the head of my bed and panting like a bitch. I couldn’t take it anymore, I had to have his cock!

“Simon, please, darling, I need your cock inside me!” I pleaded.

This time, he was prepared and reaching over to the dresser, he retrieved a condom from its pack and tore open the aluminium sleeve with his teeth, then deftly removed the condom and furled it over his erect cock.

He motioned to me to assume the doggy position and, once on all fours, I felt the tip of his rubber-clad cock probe my slit, then the sensation of his thick cock penetrating my very wet, tight, married cunt!

My face was buried in my pillow, which I bit into and clawed, as he pumped me in alternating deep and slow strokes, then brisk and hard thrusts, as he had done earlier, in the shower.

The ‘slap, slap, slap’ sound of his oscillating loins against my butt-cheeks, was like a percussive accompaniment to my sobs of ecstasy as he ravaged me from behind.

Alas, I climaxed very soon after the first few, vigorous thrusts but, undaunted, Simon turned me onto my back, and with my calves resting on his shoulders, he piledrives deep into me, in the same, slow – fast, gentle-hard routine.

Simon’s orgasm was delayed, since he’d already ejaculated just, literally, only minutes prior so, by the time he finally came, I’d lost count of how many orgasms I’d had!

Simon held me in an embrace, as we just lay there, exhausted but sated. Eventually we dozed off and slept through until dawn.

I’m not a morning person, but Simon was an early riser and up at first light. He was already showered and dressed by the time I awoke.

There was no sign of Tony yet, so I stayed in bed. Luckily, Simon had the foresight to cover me with the duvet from the pile that I had pushed to the end of the bed, so I slept warm and snug.

I woke when he came back into the room, with a mug of coffee for me. It was black and hot, just as I like it. He didn’t know how I drank my coffee, he said, so he brought it, as is.

He asked if I enjoyed the evening. He told me he’d had a great time and would like to do it again, soon, if I wanted. I said, I’d like that very much, but we should see how Tony and Janet got on.

“They were fine! Got on like a house on fire!” he reassured me. Apparently, Janet had texted him earlier.

“I suppose Janet will fill you in on all the juicy stuff, later,” I said.

“No, Brooke, that’s not how it works with us!”

His rebuttal was firm. I was surprised, but this was an issue that I had wondered about and how Tony and I should handle it.

Simon went on to explain that, swapping couples very rarely discuss their swap dates with their spouses or partners, as it can expose some dissatisfaction within their own conjugal sex-life.

Better, just enjoy the moment, then forget it happened and go on with normal, married life. If you cannot do that, then this lifestyle is not for you, Simon had said.

Simon did point out that there are some notable exceptions, though. For example, couples where the wife is the one who is shared. This could be as a threesome, where the husband also participates, or he may be a passive bystander, just watching as his wife cuckolds him with another man.

For instance, the phenomenon known as ‘Hotwifing’, is where the husband knowingly gets cuckolded by his wife, with numerous ‘bulls’, usually while the husband watches, but not always. Somehow, the husband derives pleasure or gratification, just from knowing that his wife is being ‘serviced’ by strangers.

When I heard the sound of the key turning in the front door, I knew Tony was home.

So, I bade Simon farewell and the two men fist bumped as they passed each other in the corridor.

Tony was all smiles. “How was it?” he asked. “Good,” I replied, “You?”

“Good,” came back the reply. “You want to talk about it?” he said.

“No,” I replied, “you?”

“No,” he replied.

And that was that. We did one more swap with Simon and Janet, but the novelty value had worn off now, and we just stayed friends.

We didn’t get involved with any of the other couples in the swap group. Swinging was not really our thing.

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