I'm not sure these warnings do any good but:..
This is a story about bisexual swingers. This means the guys fuck the guys, too. If that notion bothers you, please back out now.
For those of you who are intrigued or excited by the prospect of no-limits sex, enjoy...
*******
"George, honey, where are you? We're already fifteen minutes late!"
I stepped into my swim shorts.
"Christ, Ines, you know we won't be the last ones there," I called from the bedroom, "you know Steve thinks he needs to make an entrance."
My wife's blond head poked itself around the door jamb.
"Maybe so, but you aren't Steve, are you?"
I stepped over and gave her a peck on the lips. "What, you disappointed?"
Ines turned bright red. I knew she had a married woman's crush on my old college roomie. Why not, he was a good looking guy. Some kind of Polynesian/Oceania heritage. I never met his folks. Best description I've ever come up with for him is a poor-man's cross between Duane Johnson and Jason Momoa. Not screamingly good-looking, but the exotic part made up for it.
"No," she sputtered, flustered as all get out. I found it charming when she got this way. Nice to know your almost-forty-year-old wife still could harbor schoolgirl thoughts, and still could act like one.
I pulled her in to me. I was shirtless. We were going to a pool party, what was the point of a shirt? "You mean you aren't going to stare at his bulge when he shows up in nothing but a Speedo? Don't think I haven't noticed."
Ines' color deepened. "I... now, wait a... I never..."
I laughed and hugged her. "It's okay. I'm only teasing. Steve wears those things cause he's got the physique to pull it off. Besides, he's a showoff and knows we're all looking."
Yeah, I knew what Steve was packing. Shit, three years living with the guy, it's kind of hard not to be exposed to the sight of his junk somewhere along the line.
"I'm ready to go now," I said, smiling into my wife's eyes.
I almost said "smiling down into my wife's eyes." Did I forget to mention my wife's nearly as tall as I am? Not that I'm a giant, but I stand a little over six feet, and Ines tops out a touch under. Still, for all that, she's a finely formed woman. Fills out a swimsuit quite nicely, if I do say so myself. I've noticed her getting noticed. Too bad she's too shy to really appreciate it the way she should. Oh well. At least she isn't an all-out prude.
We loaded up part of our contribution to the evening's festivities in a carry bag, I grabbed the case of cans and we began the walk to Kat and Gene's.
Our little triad consisted of couples, with links to college. Steve and I were roommates, while Steve's wife, Darcy, and Kat had been. Kat and I had dated a little during that time, and it was there I learned what a wild woman she could be in the sack. Wow. It may sound weird, my being a horny college kid at the time, but after a few months, it got to be more than I could handle. Of course, it didn't help that Kat knew Steve was bi, and kept asking me if we ever spent any "time" together, if you know what I mean. Okay, she asked me if I'd sucked his cock, or if he'd sucked mine, did we fuck each other, that kind of thing. At the time, it embarrassed me. He hadn't made any moves on me, but he didn't hide the fact that he swung both ways, either.
It only took a few minutes to walk to Kat and Gene's. They just lived down the block and around the corner on the cul-de-sac. In fact, they owned all the property on the cul-de-sac. Both of them had very lucrative jobs, and they'd purchased the land before the area got so built up. They planted the land in trees and other shrubbery, so essentially, they had total privacy, right there in otherwise crowded suburbia.
They also were the only people with a pool for blocks around, so their place was typically where we tended to congregate.
We could smell the place long before we got there. Gene wasn't the manliest of men most days, but he was definitely pitmaster extraordinaire. He could do things with a grill that would put a master chef to shame, in my humble opinion.
Kat got up from her lounger when we arrived and gave us each a hug and a kiss on the lips. It had taken Ines aback the first couple times it had happened, but eventually got used to it. More than once I'd caught Gene watching this occur, and wondered what he really thought about it. I mean, I knew who was the real person in charge in their home, I just wasn't entirely sure how deep his subservience to her went.
Kat being Kat, the bikini she wore might as well have not existed. Three minute patches of neon pink fabric covered her nipples and pussy, all of it held together by what may as well have been dental floss. Still, she kept herself in shape, so the overall effect was exactly what she intended it to be.
"It's so good of you to make it," she gushed. "As you can see. Steven intends on making an "entrance" as usual. If that boy wasn't bi, I'd swear he was a queen."
"Thanks for the invite," I returned. It wasn't lost on me that Kat still kept her hands on us both. Gene was watching, glancing occasionally to the grill, but mostly observing his wife interacting in a pseudo-sexual way with other people... the way she did with almost everyone.
Well, everyone outside of her work, that is. I couldn't imagine her being able to get so touchy-feely with her clients. As a psychologist, my guess was that some degree of distance was required. Considering how much contact she seems to want to have with practically everyone she met, my suspicion was that that distance was why she got so "handsy" when not in a clinical setting.
"What do we have here?" Kat asked, taking the bag with the three bottles of wine and the case of beer from us. "Genie, they brought beverages!"
Like that was a surprise. We always brought drinks to these things. For whatever reason, the shindigs were seldom at our place, which was just fine. Kat and Gene had far more room, anyhow. It had just become an unwritten rule: George and Ines bring the drinks, Steve and Darcy bring sides and dessert, Kat and Eugene supply the entrée.
I cracked a beer and carried it over to Gene, who took it with a smile.
"So, we taking any bets on when Steve's going to show?" I started as I brought my own can to my lips and took a drink.
Gene looked thoughtful a moment, then lifted a steak and glanced at its underside.
"My guess is any minute. Steve has an uncanny ability to appear almost exactly two minutes before the meat's ready."
As if on cue, the high-pitched voice of the man known as Steve was heard beyond the fence.
Yes, I said high-pitched. While my comparisons earlier were The Rock and Khal Drogo, think more Mike Tyson in the voice department.
"The moment you've all been waiting for: eight-and-a-half inches of brown amazing and the 36D wonder have arrived."
Yeah, Steve's about as subtle as a charging elephant. Good thing I know him from way back. Just like Kat, Steve wears his sexuality on his sleeve... when he wears them anyway.
Then the man paraded in. He'd outdone himself this time. A Speedo or its like was not unusual attire for him at these things. While his body wasn't quite as hard as it had been back in the day, he still hadn't let himself go to flab. The only thing he wore was a white thong pouch. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Steven's wife Darcy was almost a direct contrast to him. Where he was tall, she was short. She only barely crossed the five-foot mark, to the best of my knowledge. Her dark, dark chocolate skin was an inheritance from her parents, who'd come here directly from Africa: one of the "N" countries, I think, don't remember for sure.
