Incredible swing experience
One fine summer day, a wonderful and interesting event occurred—new neighbors appeared on our property in our new building: a lovely couple, still quite young, Alina and Alexander Zvonarev. Alina, as our "special department employees"—the grandmothers on the bench—later found out, had recently turned 37. But she looked much younger—a figure à la Gurchenko, a thin waist, curvy hips, a firm butt that practically danced under her rather short, tight skirt as she walked.
How do I know her butt is firm? The bus to the dacha is always packed with people like sardines—to miss a chance to press against her or squeeze
her butt in the crowd? Never! And Alexander was 38, but he was somewhat plump, balding, plus his love for indulging in noble drinks gave him away—his nose with many veins and small bags under his eyes, so he looked much older. Like in the joke—"No money? Where's your money? In the bags. And where are the bags?—Right under your eyes!"Well, in communication, the couple was very pleasant. Their daughter, plump like her dad, the lovely Irina, was studying at a medical college in another city and only came here for holidays. She was a beauty and an incredibly sexy girl, as my neighbor Grigory, a joker by nature, constantly joked—"Iriska went to a café in the evening.
The Zvonarevs' son, the sturdy 18-year-old Vitya, a bit withdrawn and also somewhat plump—the whole breed takes after dad—was clearly a homebody. Whenever I dropped by the neighbors, always at their request—something needed to be moved, rearranged, screwed in, curtains hung, as with new residents—so my drill didn't "get bored"—Vitya was at home. But why he was such a homebody, a nerd and a crammer, I understood completely by accident. Once, Igor Lyulko, my university friend, we were in the same group gnawing the granite of science, invited me over, naturally to show off: he had bought a cool binocular with coated optics and a monocular telescope.
Said it was for stargazing, but clearly lying—he was always an obvious voyeur. So one fine evening on Igor's balcony, I started checking the magnification power of his praised optical instruments and, being a voyeur at heart myself, began scanning my greedy gaze, enhanced by the polished "Carl Zeiss" lenses, across the lit windows of the opposite buildings, and most importantly—our building. I even peeked into my own apartment—my wife is drinking tea in the kitchen and flipping through her favorite Marinina. Grisha is again "soaping up" for fishing—sorting his rods. And in the window of the corner apartment, our Zvonarevs—just unbelievable!
Adjusted the magnification—Vitya is standing in his room, and in front of him on a chair sits the half-naked beauty Alina and, seemingly with delight, is giving her little son a blowjob. And he's all writhing, stroking his mommy's hair—the guy is in ecstasy! Now it's clear why he's such a homebody, such an opportunity, if it arose, no young man would miss it, and like all his peers, suffering from spermotoxicity and youthful hypersexuality these years. I was the same—the only dream was who to stick it into! That's why Vitya is such a homebody! And why he's such a crammer, as Irina ironically joked—his mommy stood up, kissed her little son and pointed her finger at the desk—do your homework, son! Or else...
The sight was something else—her dress on her back, mommy's bare butt and Vitya's rhythmic movements. But then his seductive mommy turned her beautiful head back, framed by a spicy short haircut, and adjusted something with her hand near her butt. It seems, by all appearances, she directed her beloved little son's penis into her cool butt—we're working without "accidents!" Seems everything is clear—Vitya's smart and sexy mommy pleases her offspring once every three days so he doesn't suffer from hormone overload and spermotoxicity, in return demanding good studies. No wonder, pulling up her panties and straightening her skirt, Alina very unambiguously pointed her son to the table with textbooks.
Well, in August, another adventure happened, but this time with my direct participation. The spouses sent the children on a tourist trip—to have fun, relax, and get new impressions. And I was constantly invited over to the spouses to "socialize"—mainly through consuming cold drinks—dry wine and beer, as is usual in summer. Our conversations gradually became quite frank and even frivolous. And each time the spouses, citing summer heat, were in beach attire, though Alina would also throw on a light robe, but without fastening it, which looked even more seductive.
And she looked very sexy, to say the least! And she'd sit next to me on the sofa, adjusting her breasts in her bra, which greatly aroused me, but I couldn't hit on this sex bomb right in front of her husband—that's "impolitic!" But then gradually they started a conversation about swinging in general and swingers in particular. And they suggested—"befriending" as families. But here's the catch—my wife is categorically against swinging, no matter how much I tried to persuade her—no and that's it! Well, everyone has their own hang-ups! But I myself had been on a couple of dates with a married couple in Bila Tserkva—we met and corresponded online, and then a business trip there came up.
No one was eager to go there, but I, for a well-known reason, "got fired up." It was very cool in all respects—starting with not having to mope in a hotel, plus a sea of unusual pleasure! Learning the details of my trip, the previously deflated spouses perked up sharply and soon a branch of a swinger club started operating in their apartment! First, at Alina's suggestion, I took off my shirt and started dancing slow dances with the half-naked beauty in the semi-darkness of the room—Sasha turned off the overhead light and turned on the nightlight. Alina's silk bra rubbed so excitingly against my chest, greatly raising my blood pressure and my penis, which started pressing hard against her stomach, so we soon somehow simply moved to their bedroom. It was a fairy tale!
And that's when I saw and felt Alina's temperament firsthand. As soon as we entered the bedroom, she, throwing off her robe and underwear, pounced on me like a predatory harpy, simply furiously tearing off my pants and underwear. So within a second, I was left in just socks and with a protruding penis. Without even letting me recover, this stunning beauty started fucking me in every conceivable and inconceivable pose and position. It was she who was fucking me, thrusting from below and completely taking control of me in the cowgirl position! Yes, that's exactly how it was, so that Mrs. Kamasutra here, in this bedroom, was just nervously smoking on the side, resting and burning with black envy, and even shyly turning away from what was happening on this wide marital bed.
To her own and my lustful moans, Alina came and came, giving me no respite. And when I finally came myself and, stunned and exhausted, trudged to the shower, wondering if I had enough strength for a second "round," Alina pounced like a panther on her husband, modestly waiting his turn. Entering the bedroom after, refreshed by a contrast shower and aroused again by the sight of the passionately copulating Alina, I was soon ready to continue. As soon as Sasha crawled out from under the passionate "rider," I slightly turned the beauty, putting her in the doggy style position and plunged into her luxurious, firm butt, the velvety skin of which and the tight but yielding hole simply burned me. I entered somewhat tightly but confidently, rashly thinking that after such a porn series we would finish and go our separate ways. But no way, how wrong I was—prolonged anal sex brought the beauty to a new orgasm but didn't calm her down at all! She even suggested sex couple on couple! It seems the two of us won't "calm" her down!
As soon as after a new wash I lay on my back in the bedroom and, like all married men, began to show the first signs of drowsiness after two vigorous "approaches to the apparatus," Alina immediately began passionately tugging at my long-suffering penis and scrotum, not letting me fall asleep and simply demanding to visit her cave of lust again. Yes, what a "predicament" I've gotten into, I thought with slight horror, returning from semi-slumber to reality. As Lieutenant Rzhevsky said—"You can't scare a lady with five orgasms, but a modest hero-hussar will be a bit scared even after two." Yes, in her passion and desire for a new sex marathon, she might simply tear off my "golden root," as the most famous hussar of all jokes called his penis. I had already regretted a thousand times that I got involved with this swinger couple, and especially this luxurious, passionate, seductive, sexy, but incredibly demanding or simply sex-starved dear lady even scared me! She's just a volcano of passion, not Alina! Sex with her is a miracle, but preferably once!
With her wonderful mouth, she raised her husband's half-asleep penis and climbed onto him, lying obediently on his back. Then my terribly tired "old friend" realized that with her mouth and tongue Alina was working wonders and literally "rose from the ashes" and immediately this bright rider jumped on me, sat down and started "galloping," not tired at all from two men.
And that's precisely why, as soon as the long-awaited dawn barely began to break, I sharply and very quickly started gathering to go home, despite the vigorous objections of the beauty, ready for battle again, who had pulled on stockings and a bra, saying a half-naked woman is more seductive than simply naked. Leaving Alina's moaning husband to his fate, who was simply lying naked and half-dead on the floor—it turned out they have such a "festival" of passion once a month. Nightmare, I thought, dressing faster than soldiers raised by alarm. A fine festival it turned out to be—completely empty balls and a penis rubbed red. Now it's scary to even think about sex for a week—we men are modest, though we constantly boast. And by the way, according to my legend for my wife, the "fishing trip" with Oleg and Grisha was ending now, and secondly, I was simply afraid I wouldn't survive today and die like a real man—in bed and on a passionate woman. And here, it seems, under her...
And that's precisely why on this early wonderful summer sunny morning, I simply "shamefully," as Alina hissed after me—fled the battlefield, and at a super-fast pace, quickly turning into an equally brisk gallop—hurried to my real fishermen for fish! After all, we were on a night fishing trip. True, seeing me, those bastards for some reason burst out laughing, though I got a bag of fish.
Later I found out—Oleg had been in that same apartment and now avoided it by a third route. It's funny to him now at my expense! But I proudly declared to them that I didn't flee like a cowardly and faint-hearted soldier from the battlefield in a heavy and even scary battle for him—a soldier can still be understood and even forgiven humanely!
I fled from the sexual "happiness" that so unexpectedly fell upon me in the form of a young and energetic, simply incredibly passionate woman in sex (and not only in her face and other parts of her gorgeous body). Yes, I ran away simply in fright, deciding not to return here anymore, even experiencing some horror—after all, perhaps it was Alina who had and fucked me, not me her. Exactly so! But I didn't flee shamefully, as she thought, but guided by the expression of the famous commander Kutuzov—"this is not a retreat, but a military maneuver." That's how it is, gentlemen hussars! And fishermen too—it was a maneuver, not a flight!
It's good that Alina's husband has Vitya "helping" him! And that's why he's not against swinging! In his place, I would have become a convinced swinger too! Without a doubt!