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The Swap
Various Various
Eight hot stories that look inside the secret world of wife-swapping. ‘The Swap’ features brand new stories from Monica Belle, Charlotte Stein, Madeline Moore, Lisette Ashton and many more.Swinging couples, threesomes, groups, that first time and the lifestyle: an explicit collection of those who like to share and be shared in the modern taboo-breaking world of swinging.When Tia and Ryan holiday with Kay and Sean, more than their sex lives are changed forever.Sophie trusts a special kind of instinct about the couple she meets in a bar.Lucy’s eager trip to the woodshed has a sting in the tail she never anticipated.
THE SWAP
Explicit Stories from the World of Swinging
A Mischief Collection of Erotica
(http://bit.ly/KqDOG3)
Contents
Cover (#u99e073e7-b384-556f-9792-dec377a32914)
Title Page (#ufc4ac3c4-3a05-527c-8077-9bf60d82ae9b)
Playdar Lisette Ashton (#uead27742-54b6-5c37-bbe8-21870ae898f4)
Four for the Seesaw Charlotte Stein (#u01a0a3ed-1272-5344-9dec-91ba405d79f2)
Dirty Reunion Scarlet Rush (#u2610c3e2-7911-5834-b36a-cc2f2b033c8e)
Club Night Monica Belle (#litres_trial_promo)
Sauce for the Gander Terri Pray (#litres_trial_promo)
Risk Reduction Madeline Moore (#litres_trial_promo)
A Trip to the Woodshed A Lucy Salisbury Story by Penny Birch (#litres_trial_promo)
Careful What You WishFor Willow Sears (#litres_trial_promo)
Loser Takes All Amber Leigh (#litres_trial_promo)
More from Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
About Mischief (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Playdar
Lisette Ashton
These two aren’t players. You’re wasting your time with them.
Sophie read Rob’s text message, struggling not to reveal any telltale sign in her facial expression. The effort of maintaining a poker face, she knew, made her features appear haughty and long. It was not an attractive look and she tried to lose it as quickly as possible. But the expression was clearly there long enough for Philip and Angela to notice.
‘Is there a problem?’
She glanced up from her mobile towards Philip as he raised the concerned question. He had a shaved head and a smile that suggested mischief and danger. His muscular physique was squeezed into a pale casual suit. His whole image was the stylish and exciting persona of a relaxed Englishman abroad.
Beside him, his Barbie-blonde wife, Angela, tilted her head. ‘Is everything OK?’ she asked. ‘You were frowning.’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Sophie assured them both. ‘I was just trying to think of the right way to respond to this idiot I’m dealing with.’ She waggled the phone to indicate the idiot she was referring to, and then comforted them with a reassuring grin before typing and sending her text message response.
These two swing like a shithouse door in a thunderstorm. I’ll put money on it.
‘You must be quite the businesswoman back in the UK,’ Angela observed.
Sophie shrugged. ‘I do all right. What about you two?’
Her phone gave two beeps. An incoming text message. She held up an apologetic finger to silence Philip and Angela while she read Rob’s response.
£500 says you don’t get to screw Philip before the end of the day. These two don’t swing. They’re too straitlaced.
As usual, it was a perfectly punctuated text from her husband. It included apostrophes of omission and a postgraduate vocabulary. Sophie felt confident the word ‘straitlaced’ was not included in the predictive text package on his Nokia. She thought most men who weren’t Rob would try to put a hyphen in the word. His correctness with language was an essential part of his character.
She typed her reply with the practised ease of a veteran texter.
Call it £1K if I can get you with Angela. I say these two swing.
Rob’s response came back in seconds.
It’s a bet.
‘I’m sorry,’ Philip said. ‘We’re distracting you from your business.’ He made as though he was about to get up and leave.
Sophie put out a reassuring hand. ‘No. Please. That’s the last text I’m sending this evening. I’m all yours now.’ She was delighted to see Angela flush on hearing the comment. Sophie flashed her most disarming smile for the couple, as though the statement had been made in all innocence.
Her playdar, she knew, was 99.9% accurate. Maybe higher. It had never failed her so far and taking the money on this bet with Rob was almost guaranteed. Angela and Philip, she felt certain, both lived the lifestyle. They were both players.
‘Rob should be back with our drinks in a moment and I promise you I won’t be talking business for the rest of the night.’ She met Philip’s eye and said, ‘If I go back on my word, you can take me over your knee and spank my bare backside as punishment.’
Angela stiffened.
Sophie could see the woman’s hand fall to Philip’s thigh and squeeze. Philip’s smile widened. Angela’s nails were painted a wanton scarlet. Her hand was so close to Philip’s groin that Sophie could almost feel his excitement.
‘With that sort of assurance,’ Philip told Sophie, ‘I’d be a fool to leave.’
Rob returned with a tray of drinks. He didn’t bother making eye contact with Sophie. The bet was on and there was no point in either of them labouring the point or running the risk of spoiling the evening’s fun. And, it was clear to Sophie, Rob was desperate to have Angela.
He complimented Philip’s wife on her necklace: a series of princess-cut diamonds on white gold. His fingers lingered dangerously close to her cleavage as he boldly examined the piece. He leaned closer and Sophie saw his fingertips brush against the blonde’s décolletage. She could imagine the heat of his breath was warming the blush of Angela’s cleavage.
Sophie smiled.
She had always enjoyed watching Rob interact with other women. There was something satisfying about the way he was able to tease, please and excite them. It was particularly thrilling for her to know that he had the ability to excite and arouse so many women. And yet he always chose to return to her at the end of an evening. It reminded her that the openness of their relationship was something special and not to be taken for granted.
Used to watching such casual adult play, and barely listening as Angela told Rob the necklace was a gift from Philip to commemorate their fifth wedding anniversary, she saw the woman’s nipples stiffening. Angela was wearing a thin cotton dress. In the balmy heat of this African summer evening it was probably the most sensible fabric to wear, Sophie thought practically. Even though it was now early evening, and the sun’s most ferocious hours had long since passed, the humidity remained cloying and interminable.
The white cotton fitted tight against Angela’s chest. It was so tight Sophie had already noticed the woman wasn’t wearing a bra. And, as Rob continued to examine the diamond necklace, Sophie could see that Angela’s nipples were growing hard and swelling against the fabric. Her chest had been rising and falling regularly before. Now it looked like each inward breath was laboured by swelling passion. The pulse beneath Angela’s ear seemed to throb with heightened expectation.
‘You’ll have to forgive my husband,’ Sophie told Philip. ‘He works as a jeweller and he never seems to take a break from his occupation.’
‘I’ve got nothing against a man admiring my wife’s jewels,’ Philip admitted.
He gave Sophie his easy smile. It was a smile that she longed to kiss. She could picture Philip wearing that smile, and nothing else, while he lay back on a bed and allowed her to suck on his length. The idea made the crotch of her panties warm and damp.
She wondered if, when Philip said he had nothing against a man admiring his wife’s jewels, he was talking about the diamonds. Or if he had used the word ‘jewels’ as a euphemism for her breasts.
Had Philip just admitted that he and Angela were players?
She tried to think how she could surreptitiously raise the question so that Philip or Angela would answer honestly.
‘I do like well-made jewellery,’ Rob admitted. He spoke in a low voice, as though he was sharing a secret with Angela. ‘I was thinking of giving Sophie a pearl necklace this morning. But that’s got nothing to do with our talk about jewellery, has it?’
Angela choked back a lewd chuckle.
Philip’s indulgent smile broadened, although Sophie suspected he hadn’t heard the comment. And, while Philip’s attention was distracted, Sophie knew Rob’s finger would be dropping to ‘accidentally’ graze against Angela’s stiff nipple.
It was a move he often made: surprisingly subtle but devastatingly effective.
Sophie was holding Philip’s gaze when it happened but she knew the moment when the contact occurred because she saw Angela stiffen. Her ears, attuned to the moment and waiting for the sound, heard Angela catch her breath. The sigh was rich with excitement and it sounded as though Angela was desperate to experience more.
‘I’d love to see this outside in the sunlight,’ Rob told Angela. ‘Would you indulge me?’ He glanced at Philip and asked, ‘Would you mind if I took your wife? Outside I mean.’
Angela looked momentarily flustered. She gave her husband an apologetic smile and then turned to Sophie. ‘You two don’t mind, do you?’
Philip and Sophie were shaking their heads.
Angela placed a hand over her breast. Sophie couldn’t work out if the woman was pointing to her necklace, or covering up the embarrassment of her pert, stiff nipples. She supposed the gesture could have been a combination of the two.
‘I love these,’ Angela said, gesturing at the diamonds. ‘And it’s so nice to show them off to someone who obviously appreciates them.’
‘I’m sure Rob appreciates them,’ Sophie said drily.
Philip nodded indulgently. He didn’t seem perturbed when Rob gallantly took Angela by the elbow and escorted her out to the balcony. If anything, and Sophie felt sure the message was coming again from her playdar, it seemed that he was relieved that they were finally alone.
‘Your husband has a good eye.’
‘His other parts are OK, too,’ Sophie quipped.
‘Why are you out here?’ he asked. ‘Is it a holiday?’
‘We needed to recharge our batteries. Rob and I both work hard and play hard.’ She took a deep breath and said, ‘We’d been putting in extra hours at the office and we’d been playing extra hard at the club.’
Philip nodded as though he knew what she meant.
Sophie allowed the words to linger between them, silently hoping that Philip would ask her about playing extra hard at the club. If he asked what she meant, she could tell him it was a swingers’ club. She would explain that she and Rob spent their weekends there, usually sweltering in the heat of a group room, often sweating and writhing with a horde of eager, attractive strangers, all horny and each one desperate to fuck.
In her mind’s eye she could picture the group room at her favourite club. It was always illuminated by red bulbs and looked as bloody and as dangerous as a horror movie. She couldn’t count the number of times she had become lost in there, pressed between naked strangers, submitting to their inquisitive caresses and giving herself over to the pleasure they wanted to bestow. Every time she allowed her imagination to transport her there for a moment, the experience was sufficiently intense to leave her aroused and desperately craving satisfaction.
Philip didn’t ask the question.
He didn’t ask about her playing extra hard at the club and he didn’t ask about her work. Instead, he seemed content to sit back in his seat, smiling easily for her, and relaxing with his drink.
‘What is it you do when you’re not holidaying in Africa?’ she asked.
‘I work in a prison.’
‘You’re a screw?’
She couldn’t stop the cheeky grin from spreading across her lips. If there was one thing she enjoyed with the light-hearted banter of a potential new conquest it was the opportunity for double entendre. She loved to play with words and make the mundane sound lewd and suggestive. Using the word screw in a variety of suggestive ways promised to give her the chance to properly flirt with Philip.
‘Are you a good screw?’ she asked quickly. ‘Or are you a hard screw? If you work shifts does that mean you can be an early-morning screw or a late-night screw? If you get a lot of pleasure from your work does that mean you’re a passionate, satisfying screw …?’
‘Actually,’ he began apologetically, ‘I work in the prison’s admin.’
She scowled. This wasn’t going as she had hoped.
Over Philip’s shoulder, Sophie saw Rob and Angela on the balcony outside. The African sunlight turned Angela’s blonde hair white. Rob had made his trademark move, brushing Angela’s hair over her ear, allowing his fingertips to trail against her cheek, then caress the sensitive flesh of her neck.
And then he was leaning in for the kiss.
Angela melted against him.
Sophie could sympathise with the woman. When Rob was turning on the charm it was impossible to resist him. Even watching the exchange, Sophie felt an echo of the thrill that Angela was clearly enjoying.
Rob’s hand fell to Angela’s breast. He caressed her through the fabric of her thin cotton top. Angela made no objection to his hand being there. Instead she leaned into him. One hand dropped below the level of the window and Sophie guessed that Angela was exploring the shape of Rob’s erection.
She envied her husband taking advantage of Angela and the isolation of the hotel’s balcony. She only wished Philip was as responsive.
‘Have you and Angela been together long?’ Sophie asked.
It crossed her mind that perhaps her playdar had misled her.
Certainly Angela was enjoying herself with Rob. Sophie figured, if she closed her eyes and listened intently, she would have heard Angela’s stifled cries as she muffled her sighs of pleasure beneath Rob’s touch.
But what Rob had with Angela was very different from what Sophie found she had with Philip.
Conversation with Philip was like pulling teeth.
She supposed it could be that he and Angela lived the lifestyle, but that Philip didn’t find her attractive and had no interest in trying to have her. Sophie tried to quickly dismiss that thought, sure it was impossible for any man to resist her innate desirability. But it was enough to wound her self-confidence.
She glanced over Philip’s shoulder and saw that Rob and Angela were still taking advantage of the balcony’s solitude. Their passionate kiss had turned into a ferociously intimate interlude. The top of Angela’s dress was pulled down exposing a bare, pert breast. Rob clutched at her with one hand, his fingers buried punishingly hard into her soft flesh. Sophie could tell, from the way he was bucking and thrusting against her, that her husband’s erection was buried deep inside Angela.
