put the weapon back in the glove compartment, and retrieved a couple napkins. She pulled down the mirror from above the driver’s seat and stared at her reflection as she patted the beads of sweat that had gathered across her forehead.
She closed the mirror, balled the napkin, and threw it at her unconscious husband. She then pressed her thumb into the remote that was clipped to the mirror, bringing the garage door back down. She got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition and the engine running, and headed inside.
“That’s why I told them we were going to Tahiti,” she mumbled, “if you must know.” She removed her coat. “I’m gonna need a couple uninterrupted days to get you back in line.”
Lyssa & Jacob
“Uhnnnn, uhnnnn, szzzz,” I moaned through my clenched teeth.
I enjoyed all kinds of sexual positions but being scissored was one I’d come to love. And my live-in, Morgan, had it down to a science. She made sure our clitorises were perfectly aligned and then she’d aggressively twirl her hips like she was in a hula-hoop competition. It always made me cum. Tonight was no different.
“Szzzzz, oh God!” I shrieked.
Morgan was sure to keep her movement steady until I was completely done. Stopping midway might be cause for a dock in her pay. She had learned that lesson the first week on the job.
“You done?” Jacob whispered in my ear from his position behind me. His hands were planted on my boobs, fingers paying special attention to my nipples.
I nodded, accompanying my response was a wet kiss. My husband reciprocated. Morgan watched our tongues dance in each other’s mouths while she gently stroked Jacob’s thigh. It was his turn next.
I sat up, leaning my back against the headboard, and lit a cigarette. The only time I’d ever smoke was after sex. I didn’t know why. Jacob wanted me to quit. But I would always tell him, you can’t quit a habit you don’t have. Seriously, smoking was never a vice of mine. Other than after orgasms, I never even thought about cigarettes.
I puffed and dragged while Morgan gave my husband a blowjob. I watched her jaws expand and contract with every motion. Jacob’s hand palmed the crown of her head like it was a basketball. I didn’t know if he was guiding her movement or just following it. His face was scrunched up like he couldn’t stand it, yet I knew he loved every minute. Just like he used to with me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had given my husband head, but I did remember how much he used to enjoy it.
Since we started hiring live-ins, two years earlier when our youngest went away to college, my wifely duties had been cut down significantly. And where sex used to be a chore for me, live-ins made it pleasurable—as pleasurable as it had always been for my husband. Now we were on a level playing field. Our sex drives were compatible, thus our love life was incredible.
It was that very change in momentum that had brought the urge to open a swingers club. We wanted other couples to get to that same space of complete sexual fulfillment. And Puss & Boots was just the place that allowed this to happen. The name was our first choice, and although we considered others, we stuck with our gut. We used our retirement money to open it, and it turned out to be one of the best investments we’d ever made. Who knew so many people, from all walks of life, would be into swapping partners?
Two years and one hundred fifty memberships later, we were able to live good off our club, and when I say good, I mean we could afford extras like a housekeeper, a daily dining-out habit, and of course our live-ins.
Live-ins got five hundred a week plus they stayed with us rent-free. All their utilities including cable and Internet were taken care of. Meals, cell phone, and car expenses were on us. A live-in paid only for her personal hygiene items and outings or trips she wanted to go on without us. That way, she could save up for a place of her own, for tuition, or for whatever else she wanted to do. In exchange, Jake and I got sex on demand. It was a win-win.
We usually hired a different live-in every two or three months. That was about how long they generally needed to accumulate enough money for whatever it was they were trying to achieve. For us, it helped in preventing boredom.
We met our first live-in when we were in New Orleans. We had gone down there one year for the Essence Music Festival and one night we got entirely too drunk. We dipped into one of the many clubs that line Bourbon Street to retreat from the ninety-degree heat.
We didn’t even realize until we were shoving dollar bills down a girl’s thong that we were in a strip club. It was all a drunken blur. At some point we got a lap dance from a girl from Atlanta, our hometown. Indeed, she was the first girl to ever make me second-guess my sexuality. We spent the rest of our night getting lap dances from her. Then we invited her to our hotel room. We had the best sex. We paid her well and I made a simple comment that would change our lives for good.
“I wish I could take you home with me,” I said, joking but serious.
“You can,” was her response. “Are you two into having a live-in?”
Neither Jake nor I knew what that was. A nanny was the first thing that came to my mind.
“Both our kids are grown and out of the house,” I told her.
“That’s perfect—we won’t have to hide from anybody.”
Then I understood that what she was referring to had nothing to do with babysitting. Jacob and I took her number. We discussed it at breakfast, lunch, and dinner the next day. We weighed pros and cons. By the time we landed back in Atlanta three days later, we were calling the girl to set it up.
Her name was Jasmine. She had moved to New Orleans to live with a boyfriend after high school. He became abusive and she left him. Stripping was a way for her to support herself. But it wasn’t panning out the way she’d hoped. She had heard of girls getting more money and stability by becoming live-ins to wealthy couples. She wanted that opportunity for herself. And Atlanta was familiar territory for her, so we fit the bill.
She moved in with us a month after she had danced her way into our lives. She showed us so much about sex and how to achieve true ecstasy. She was a gift. She left us at the end of three months, but not before she showed us how to look for our next live-in.
There were two websites she introduced us to, TheRedLightCenter.com and SwingLifestyle.com. The first one caught Jake and I totally off guard. It’s a virtual world of partying, drinking, vacationing, socializing, and of course having sex with random people. You create an avatar that is very lifelike. Then you virtually interact with people as you would in the real world. You find someone compatible for you and you end up having virtual sex with him or her and, if interested, you can arrange to meet in person and have actual live sex. A lot of people in our lifestyle go on that site to find fuck buddies.
It was intriguing, but Jake and I found SwingLifestyle.com to be more our speed. First of all, it was filled with single females. Second of all, it was simple. You sign up to be a member, set up a profile, and seek out single females who fit the bill. You can find parties, groups, clubs, and even read stories by other swingers. There had been many occasions where Jake and I had gotten extremely horny simply visiting the site.
It was the best resource Jasmine could’ve led us to. And every time we went on SwingLifestyle to search out our next prospect, I thought about her, wondering if her profile would pop up.
Anyway, Jacob and I adapted to our new lifestyle quite well. While we were comfortable with it and open in our own way, our children didn’t know about it. Neither did the rest of our family or close friends. Only our live-ins and our Puss & Boots members. We liked it that way. A double life wasn’t as hard to lead as we initially feared. And it actually made the whole thing more exciting. We were content.
* * *
Jake’s body jolted. He was cumming. I put out my cigarette and joined Morgan at the base of my husband’s penis. She licked one side, I did the other, our tongues collecting his semen. We swallowed and then kissed each other, passionately, sloppily. We caressed and then