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Wife Swapping in the 1980s: a Contact Magazine Story

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

In the days before Fabswingers and the internet, swinging was not always an easy hobby to get into. If you didn't know a swinger, or were a swinger in waiting but didn't have the courage to ask a third person into your relationship, then you were really rather stuck. Basically, the only way of making contact – other than the old rumour (was it true?) that swingers always grew pampas grass outside of their front door – was to buy a contact magazine from a sex shop. These little books were even more expensive than what passed for hard-core pornography in those days. Scarcely illustrated with fuzzy black and white photos (faces invariably covered with a black bar) or occasionally with a face shot of an embarrassed man obviously taken in the Photo-Me booth in a railway station, they contained box numbers you had to write to. As the magazine were always months out of date, you never ever received a reply.

My then-wife and I never had high hopes from the adverts we found in contact magazines, needless to say. But one day we did receive a reply, and it did lead to a rather sexy encounter with an older couple. Elaine and I had written a hasty note to an advertisement placed by a ‘Discerning gentleman with sensual partner’ who was seeking ‘an imaginative couple’. That was it, basically, so we wrote just a little more in reply – that we were educated, in our mid-twenties, enjoyed a passionate marital love life into which we occasionally invited others. The reply was brief, but on good-quality paper (not Basildon Bond): it gave an address which we knew was in one of the more exclusive and prosperous areas of the city.

Needless to say, we arrived just a little early, so as to see what we were letting ourselves in for. A large detached house, set back from the road with a short drive and parking for at least three cars. Very discreet. Tree shaded, leaded glass windows and stucco. All the signs of prosperity and respectability. That was reassuring. We knew nothing about these people at all.

I range the bell and the painted wooden door, with its oval pane of frosted glass, opened. Well, it was gentleman, indeed, double my age if not a little more – respectably dressed and well spoken. He ushered us in to the living room, where his lady wife awaited. Introductions were made, and Jeremy and Madeleine were the perfect hosts, handing us decent wine and canapés, and talking genteelly about quite normal things. After around 40 minutes of small talk, Jeremy remarked, urbanely, ‘So, what is your experience of wife swapping?’

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

The discussion of the most intimate aspect of our married life which followed was conducted in civil terms, with no swear words or crude terms, and with a candour that was admirable. Our hosts learned of our experiences in threesomes and foursomes, as well as during a house party (the record of which is also preserved on FAB, elsewhere in this forum), of our taste for sensuality and voyeurism, and we in turn learned that they were actually closer to sixty than fifty (Madelaine was, indeed, sixty one; Jeremy fifty-nine), that they had begun wife swapping whist he was an army officer in Germany in the 1960s, and had carried it on discreetly in this leafy suburb since his regiment returned to Britain around 1970. Both were now retired and had ample time to devote to their hobbies – gardening, watercolour painting, photography and sex.

Madeleine took my wife’s hand, and led her to Jeremy. ‘Let me introduce you to my husband, with whom you will become intimate.’ She placed Elaine’s hand into his, and kissed her fleetingly on the cheek. ‘And you, sir, I shall claim as my own.’

Jeremy led Elaine ceremoniously to the foot of the stairs, whilst I followed with Madeleine. We might have been walking into a formal dinner. Upon the landing we paused. ‘We will attend on you both later’, Jeremy said in his gentlemanly way, and led my wife – who had never before been alone with another man – into the room on the left. Madeleine silently beckoned me to open the right hand door to admit her. I must say, I was equally shocked.

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By *ornyspunkMan  over a year ago

trucking all over

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

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By *an_WoodMan  over a year ago

Stafford

More saucy details needed please

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

As we entered, it was clear that the rooms were separated by a large sliding door, which placed Jeremy’s parting salvo into context. The door was left just slightly open, so that one might hear and possibly see what was happening in the adjoining chamber. The room I was in was wallpapered in a dark, masculine print. There was little furniture, other than a chaise longue, which implied a separate dressing room elsewhere, and I guessed that this must be Jeremy’s room, for those of a certain class sleep separately even after engaging in marital bliss.

To be sure, I was unsure how to begin to seduce this genteel lady. Clearly, Jeremy was more certain of how to handle his prize, as I could hear muffled noises next door, muttered words from both and the sliding shut of a drawer followed by some rusting as of starched material. I looked to Madeleine for advice, deferentially. She simply said ‘Fuck me like a whore!’

I suspect I was visibly shocked, I suspect. All had been so genteel downstairs, so polite, and the words were incongruous coming from this hitherto decorous sixty-one year old. ‘I mean it’, she said. ‘You’ve paid for my body – now use it!’ There was noise coming from next door now. I wondered whether Elaine had been made a whore in Jeremy’s imaginative game in there. This was role, play, to be sure. ‘Despoil me, like the slut I am – humiliate me. I’m nothing more than an old tart, cheaper than those nice girls you probably buy to help you forget your dull marriage bed’. Moving towards her, I gripped her roughly. ‘Get a fucking move on – you’ve only paid for fifteen minutes, and I screw another ten clients this evening!’ With the clock ticking, I literally ripped open her silk blouse, to her delight, the buttons flying off and pinging upon the hard floor. Her black brassiere followed, its hooks irreparably damaged by my role-playing hands. Mercilessly, I squeezed her bare breasts, sucking her nipples with extreme pressure. I felt her quiver and gasp. She had cum. I roughly turned Madeleine around and wrenched open the back of her t skirt, which fell the ground in a pool around her feet. Black stockings. Cheap black cotton panties, though, cheaper than the bra I had ruined. I wondered why. ‘Rip my fucking knickers off!’ I knew why now. With a sad tear, Madeleine’s panties were reduced to a few shreds and her cunt was bare to my gaze. I slipped my thumb inside and found it incredibly roomy. Two fingers, three – ‘go on’, she said. ‘Put your fucking fist in my whore’s cunt – it’s been used so many times you can get your arm in!’ I fisted her mercilessly until she came again and then, as she braced herself against the wall, rammed my engorged cock into her. I was still fully clothed, she was wearing only heels and stockings, and I fucked her, as she wanted, like a whore – in rapid, violent motions I pounded into her, and as she came for the third, possibly fourth, time I let the full force of my cum fly into the depths of her cunt. Withdrawing, I bent and wiped my cock on her expensive skirt, much to her delight. The genteel lady had returned. ‘Thank you for that – it was most enjoyable, though I feel that you really owe me at least five pounds for the extra five minutes!’ To her delight, I obliged, tucking a creased and crumpled fiver into her black and red garter. She smiled and pecked me on the cheek: ‘That’s for being a good boy and playing along’, she said, ‘shall we see what the others are doing?’

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By *ustful desiresCouple  over a year ago

.

Good start

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

Fantastic!!

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

Madeleine beckoned me silently to the sliding door, and with her finger on her lips increased the gap so that we could both peer in to what was a larger room, more brightly lit and with feminine adornments. This was Madeleine’s room, clearly, and was probably also the room in which they made love when alone together. What a sight met my eyes. In the centre of the room was a four-poster bed, with chintzy curtains festooning the four posts and valance. The bedspread was of a mid-fawn colour, and on that bedspread was my lady wife, wearing a raw silk wedding dress, the corseted front of which had been unlaced, exposing her ample breasts. These were in turn being caressed, by both hand and moth, by Jeremy, who was clad in a starched white shirt, bow tie and evening trousers. Madeleine smiled. ‘Ah, he does like to deflower a virgin bride’, she whispered. ‘I wondered what he might dress her as’. ‘What else does he like?’, I queried. ‘Oh, he had a forty-year old secretary dressed as a nun last week while he was a bishop, but his imagination can run wild. I’ve seen Adam and Eve in fig-leaves in there, Roman togas, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, a highwayman and an heiress. He keeps the costumes in the large wardrobe on the far wall.’ ‘Do you have many?’ ‘I tend to enjoy variations on a theme. I have a number of ‘cheap’ outfits that address the theme of ladies of the night – but I really felt so urgent that I didn’t bother to dress for dinner when we entered the room. That was a Hermès blouse you ruined, by the way.’ I mumbled an apology. ‘It was worth it!’ was all she said in reply. It was surreal, talking to this cultured pensioner, who was clad only in stockings and heels, while my wife was being seduced in the role of a new bride just fifteen feet away. ‘Can they see us?’, I asked. ‘No – the lights in there are set out to make this viewpoint appear nothing more than a black strip between the doors, even with the muted lighting we have in here. Why don’t you let me assist you in removing your clothes?’ I complied.

Jeremy had, in the meantime, progressed further in his possession of the virgin bride. Carefully posing her so as to maximise the exposure of her lovely body to the viewpoint presented to the scenario’s unseen voyeurs, he eased the lacing to the rear of her corset, and requested her, urbanely, to step out of her wedding dress. Elaine stepped forward off the bed, and the dress fell in great, silky folds around her. More luxuriant than that tide of silky whiteness, though, was my wife’s body. In place of her American Tan stockings he had encased her legs in fine white seamed stockings, and she wore white peep-toe heels. On her right thigh was a white lace garter, threaded with a baby blue ribbon, and her nuptial panties were lacy almost to the point of transparency. She wore no bra, and her young breasts, with their aroused nipples, rippled beautifully as he caressed them lovingly. I felt a stirring in my loins, and a welcome hand, expensively manicured, began to tease my recently discharged manhood back to exquisitely painful hardness.

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

Jeremy was now removing his own clothing, as my wife gazed upon him as a bride should. Her silver-haired lover pulled at one side of his bow tie, and it fell into a straight length of material, which he laid upon the bed carefully. His starched evening shirt was taken off and then finally he invited my wife – his wife, for this night – to unbutton his formal trousers. He wore no underwear, and a hard, magnificent cock was revealed to her sight. ‘Gently, darling’, he said, lovingly. With her hands she caressed that instrument of her coming defloration, before kissing its tip recently.

He held her hands and gazed into her eyes, and she returned the gaze. ‘To have and to hold’, he said, ‘from this day forward; for better for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health’. ‘Will you marry me, Elaine?’ ‘Yes, I will, darling Jeremy’. ‘To love, honour and obey.’ ‘Yes’. ‘To bear my children?’ ‘Oh, yes’. She was utterly seduced, and at that moment I realised that her wedding finger was bare. A glint of light at the bedside indicated where her wedding and engagement rings were discarded, the diamond I had given her sparkling a weak reminder of the same promises she had made to me and which she had just repeated to a man who, even now, was sliding another ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

Madeleine was now sucking me, her hands squeezing my balls with expert precision. In the bridal suite, Jeremy was removing his new wife’s panties. This was the point at which I received another shock, for as he peeled down that insubstantial, gauzy garment it became very clear that my wife had been depilated. In the place where her dark bush had been was a now a smooth area of pink flesh, shining from the recent application of a skilful wet razor. Jeremy gazed lovingly at his bride’s shining quim. ‘So nice to make it truly mine at last, my love’, he said, ‘so entrancing to behold it without that concealing mass of hair. You truly are my girl – my bride, my virgin to be taken for the first time.’ He bent to kiss her cleft, her maidenly petals visible to all in the yawning space between her smooth thighs. Holding her wifely labia apart, Jeremy carefully licked her with practised ease, his tongue circling her aroused pussy, penetrating deep into her depths, teasing her clitoris as she slipped into a succession of mini orgasms. ‘Time to deflower you, my darling’.

‘Yes’, she breathed in response.

‘Darling Elaine – I am your husband.’

She had even started to speak like I imagined Madeleine would speak in the bedroom – tender, submissive, loving. Jeremy covered my – his – wife, and with his back to me shielded me from the intimate moment in which his cock first made contact with the sensitive outer skin of her wifely opening. She shuddered visibly.

‘Do you want this?’

‘Yes – make me a full woman, Jeremy, I am yours, your wedded wife, the companion of your days, the joy of your nights – the mother of your children. Please’, she whispered, ‘give me a honeymoon baby, make my belly swell with your child!’

Without further ado her new husband penetrated her to the hilt, and if there was no hymen for him to break, she screamed in sheer lust as if he really had broken her in. She crossed her nylon-clad thighs around his back and spurred his rapidly pumping arse with her heels as they fucked like newlyweds. It was very easy to forget that there was an age gap of 35 years between the two. After ten solid minutes of fucking, he demanded she mount him, and there he completed his conquest of her bridal flesh as, after he had vocally inseminated her and she had followed him to a loud orgasm herself, I watched her withdraw her encircling flesh from his softening cock, and saw the white tribute of his husbandly sperm evacuate itself from her distended bridal passage.

Madeleine placed her finger on her lips and beckoned me to the bed. ‘I think you are sufficiently recovered to make love to me’, she said, genteelly, and removing her heels lay back so that I could make a leisurely conquest of her feminine body. We made love for ten more minutes, and when she came, this time with quiet satisfaction, and I had spent what was left of my essence inside her body, she assisted me in the shower and dressed me herself. Her clothes being either damaged or stained with my ejaculate, she excused herself, returning ten minutes later in an immaculate dress, flesh-coloured hosiery and flat shoes. I had peeked through the dividing doors in her absence. All was quiet in there, with no evidence of discarded clothing. It was as if nothing had happened. And, as I sat talking of social trifles with the engaging Madeleine there came a tap on the door. It was the happy couple, who had indeed come to attend on us. Elaine was bright and as flushed and provocative as any new bride should be on the morning after her wedding, and Jeremy was the perfect gentleman – as always. My wife was bedecked in the clothes she had arrived in a few hours earlier and I noticed that she was again wearing the rings I had given her. As Jeremy took his own wife by the hands and kissed her delicately on the cheek, he discreetly slipped something on to her ring finger.

A small sherry and more inconsequential talk concluded our evening, and we parted good friends. We knew that there would be a further invitation – and there was.

We hope you enjoyed this story. If you click on the green arrow next to our name, you will be able to find the other stories we have posted recently. Alternately, why not search for the following titles: ‘How he Seduced Me’, ‘Student Swingers’, ‘Our First Threesome’, ‘Sarah the Photographer’, ‘Photo Fun’, ‘Photo Fun 2: The Model Returns’, ‘Posing for Readers’ Wives’, ‘A Sexy House Party’ and ‘Making a Woman of Her’. Please do leave comments on these stories, or even a thumbs up: we love to read them, and we love it even more when you FAB the photos on our profile. Happy swinging.

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By (user no longer on site)  over a year ago

Good story nice pleasant read

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By *est-couple OP   Man  over a year ago

Southwick (near Trowbridge)

We will be posting a couple more tales in the very near future - in the mean time, you might enjoy the two 'student Swingers' stories we posted over the last couple of days x

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By *cfc1965Man  over a year ago

horsham

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