Christmas Party Swap [swingers, cuckold, cheating]

It was the night of the Christmas party at my wife’s best friend’s apartment, and we spent the entire afternoon cooking and preparing side dishes to contribute.

I slow-smoked a brisket, and in the mean time made homemade pretzels, while my wife made her killer cheese dip and crockpot BBQ smokies. (We knew her friends would all bring something, but we also knew they would all just grab a bag of chips or a 2-liter and call it good.)

Since we are the only couple in the friend group who owns a home, we usually host the annual Christmas party, but this year my wife’s friend Aly asked if she could host it at her place.

When I was younger, I always imagined my future winters filled with grand holiday parties, decorated lawns, and an important job that brought important people to those parties. I imagined drinking wine and flirting with wives while my large house was crammed so full of people that nobody would notice (or care).

That isn’t how it turned out.

My best friends live hours away from us, and it’s my wife’s friends we always hang out with when we do decide to have people over.

My wife’s friends are Benjamin and Alex (a couple), and Margot and Aly (not a couple), who both have serious boyfriends who, for whatever reason, never show up to these get-togethers.

Let me give you the dynamic: My wife and I are both fairly independent (not clingy), but we have never talked seriously about swapping or threesomes (I seriously don’t think she would go for it). Margot has dark hair and a huge ass, and I would give a two-week check to penetrate it while squeezing onto her big mom tits for dear life and going to town on her behind (Somehow, I know she would love it, also). Aly, however, is a petite blonde who speaks in a thick southern accent, and is fiery in all aspects. (I share her vape with her all the time and never fail to consider that, in this interplay, we kiss every time we meet.)

It’s Aly I am focused on the night we show up to the Christmas party at her house.

Aly greeted us at the door (our arms were full of food and Dirty Santa surprises), and she helped me unload the gifts, while my wife took the crockpot in to the kitchenette.

As she took the gifts from my arms, however (I’m sure it was an accident), two of her fingers traced a slight, ticklish line down my inner arm. I’m sure I stood, dumbfounded, in the doorway, watching her bare feet take her to the coffee table where she deposited the gifts, but what I really noticed then and there (besides her long, nimble toes, or her tight, chiseled calf muscles), were her back dimples–the Dimples of Venus–that led my eyes from the small of her back down to where the thin band of her pink panties showed just above the waist of her tight black yoga pants.

Needless to say, her tight ass wagged from side to side as she sauntered away from me.

The others showed up: Ben and Alex, and then Margot (minus her boyfriend), and I asked Aly if Mark (her boyfriend) would be showing up.

She said he had to work. (He always had to work.)

Margot gave me a big hug, as she always did, upon entering, but tonight (her silky top was very thin) her left nipple poked me as I pulled her close, squeezing her tits against me. One hug from each at the beginning, one hug from each at the end–That would be the size of it (not counting all the gawking I would do in the meantime).

These parties were far too small to do any real flirting without being noticed.

At one point (before Dirty Santa), I peered across the room and locked eyes with Aly while she was putting a little smokie in her mouth at the kitchenette counter. Her eyes (subtly) darted from side to side, and I looked quickly away, saving her the embarrassment.

“You know how we could make this really dirty,” Aly said, as we each drew our numbers for the Dirty Santa gift exchange.

“How?” My wife asked immediately.

(By this time, the wine had been flowing liberally for a good two hours, and soft Christmas music played through the stereo speakers. The fireplace (on the television) crackled, and I took another sip of white wine to await Aly’s suggestion.)

“We could do it topless,” Aly said.

Ben laughed mirthfully, and Alex giggled, but all of a sudden Margot removed her silk top and her big ole titties rested comfortably held within the constraints of her sexy black-laced bra.

I must have stared for at least a split second, because when I turned to catch my wife’s reaction, she was staring at me with what I quickly recognized as contempt.

“Put your shirt back on,” my wife said to Margot, but Margot only laughed.

“Take yours off,” Margot said.

My wife shot me a glance, and then looked down at the carpet where we all sat cross-legged holding our wine glasses and our Dirty Santa gifts.

“Why not?” I asked. “Let’s party.” I wanted to peel off my own shirt, but if my wife wasn’t going to have it, I didn’t want to humiliate her.

“Fine,” she said hotly, and peeled off her top, which I had earlier helped pick out.

“Well, if you guys are doing it…” Ben said, pulling off his sweater and white undershirt. His head went sideways to Alex, who definitely wouldn’t have taken the initiative, but pulled off his shirt to please Ben.

“Well,” I said, pulling off my own shirt (I had been working out for the past six months and felt extremely confident). “If everyone else is doing it.”

I shook, giddy with anticipation.

We drew our numbers and started the game, selecting gifts as we went, unwrapping them.

My wife stole Ben’s gift, and Ben unwrapped another, only to have it stolen by myself (whom my wife had nudged into doing it).

The wine flowed and everyone laughed, and Ben drew again, pantomiming exhaustion as he ripped into his third package of the night.

He unboxed a dildo, and everyone went wild with laughter and a hint of nervous excitement.

Aly’s turn was next, and she stole the dildo from Ben. “I’m thinking about using this right now,” she said.

Under any other circumstances, her comments might have seemed inappropriate or sadly desperate, but on this night, everyone just laughed as she flipped the switch, started it to buzz, and touched the end to Margot’s bra-enclosed nipple.

Margot shrieked in excitement and rolled over backward, her huge ass rolling upward into the air, everyone still laughing (My gaze became steady, laser focused, as I realized this night really could go anywhere).

“Let’s spice things up,” Aly said, stealing the words I never could have spoken aloud given the circumstances. She rolled the band of her yoga pants down to her crotch, rolled backward on the floor and slid out of them, turning them inside out as she yanked them off, revealing, if only for a moment, a brief glimpse of a pink (balloon knot?) behind the thin pink string of her thong.

It was there one moment, and then it was gone.

I swigged down the rest of the wine in my glass, and went to the kitchenette counter for another. “Anyone else?” I asked.

“Me!” Aly said, holding her wine glass in the air, oblivious to anyone who might take it from her.

I took Aly’s glass and refilled it, along with my own.

When I made it back to the circle, Ben and Alex were both unbuttoning their jeans, and my wife was watching me standing there with two wine glasses, wondering what I would do next.

I gave Aly back her glass full of white wine.

I returned to my spot and took another sip, while my wife continued to give me the side eye.

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I said, only acting like I was joking.

With this, my wife stripped out of her own pants and threw them into the space between our circle and the door.

“Oh, shit,” I said, unbuttoning my own pants and stripping out of them while watching Margot (now standing) shimmy out of hers. Her panties were a light blue and white, and I noticed, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me, a small wet spot in her crotch. As she sat back down, I knew her ass was absolutely consuming her panties behind. (I would have given more than a two-week check in that moment to have escaped with those panties into the bathroom.)

We all continued to drink, unwrap, and steal gifts from each other (doing more talking and drinking than anything else), until Aly let loose with it:

“You guys, what the hell are we doin’?”

We all looked at her.

“We’re young and sexy; why the fuck are we not naked?” She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, while we all watched, and when she had pulled it off revealing her small, cone-shaped, pink titties, she went on to strip off the panties that had obviously been such a bore to her all night. It was then that I saw, most definitely, the small pink slit of my immediate desire.

Ben and Alex immediately stripped to the bone, and Ben laughed when he noticed that Alex’s cock was as hard as a rock.

“Jesus, Alex,” Ben said. “These are females. How are you hard right now?”

I cast my gaze to the floor and removed my boxer briefs that were, by this point, marked up with precum, and looked at my wife who had already rolled backward and pulled her panties off over her wide hips.

I caught Alex staring open-mouthed at my wife, but I didn’t say anything.

I watched as Margot again stood and shimmied her hips to free herself from the tight grip of yet another undergarment–This time, it was the blue and white panties. I admired her neatly-trimmed bush as she had a seat back on the carpet. (What I would have given to have been that carpet.)

I turned toward my wife, hoping she hadn’t noticed me staring, and caught her staring at Alex, who stared back at her.

“Why don’t you two get a room,” I said, and then instantly regretted it when I remembered Ben sat right there.

“For real,” Ben said. “Maybe some pussy would do you good.”

The heat flushed my face and my cock became hard as I imagined the little gay man and my wife going at it like a wrestling match in a back bedroom. (Based on everything I’d heard, Ben and Alex rarely had sex, but when they did it was with a condom and usually oral, strange as it sounds.)

I imagined Alex raw dogging my wife, who uses an effective birth control, and finally getting to blow his load into something other than a condom. It could be a life-changer for him, but I loved the thought of it too.

I noticed my wife was blushing and, feet on the floor, sitting with her knees crossed in front of her, acting all sorts of shocked, embarrassed, and turned on at the same time. (Alex’s gaze never moved from the spot that I knew was my wife’s wet vagina.)

“How many bedrooms you got around here?” I asked, looking directly at Aly, who held up two skinny fingers and took another drink of wine.

“Have at it,” I said, looking at my wife.

“Go,” Ben said, looking at Alex. “What are you waiting for?”

Alex’s gaze shot directly to my wife, who immediately stood and strode over to him. She took him by his hard cock and led him back to the back of the apartment where we heard a door open and close.

“Fuck,” I said.

“He’s gonna get it,” Ben said. “He’s always going on and on about how he can only have blow jobs, or how he can only have sex with a condom on…”

“Christine hates it in the ass,” I said, and would have been embarrassed for being so presumptuous had I not had such a great buzz.

“Shit,” Ben retorted. “He’ll take it any way he can get it at this point.”

“Damn…” I said.

Aly smiled at me–It was a wry smile. She stood and made her way over, pressing down my own knees, which were up and crossed, and gently spread my legs apart. She seated herself in the gap between my legs, wrapped her arms loosely around my neck, and pulled herself nearer to my one true threat, wrapping her warm legs around my back.

We sat like that for a moment, the head of my twitching cock tickling the tip of her own twitching clitoris. “You’re tickling me,” she said.

“Shit,” Ben said. “You up for some straight sex?” He asked Margot.

I would have been beyond jealous had I not had Aly in my lap flicking the underside of my cock head with her erect and pulsing clit.

“Sure,” Margot said. She flaunted her fat ass across the room to her purse, reached in, and removed a small bottle of what looked to be a clear fluid. “This is your lucky day,” she said. She explained that the small bottle held a lubricant made from THC, and that they would be the luckiest ones of the night.

“Girl, give me some of that,” Aly said, and Margot, smiling, squirted a bit of the fluid onto her right hand. She walked over to Aly, knelt, and massaged it into her friend’s pouting pussy. (I noticed that neither Aly nor Margot broke eye contact throughout the exchange.)

“Take me to bed, motherfucker,” Aly said, now looking deeply into my eyes. She wrapped her legs around me tightly, and I stood with her wrapped around my waist. (As I walked back to the back of the apartment where Aly’s bedroom shared a wall with the bedroom adjacent, my cock slid in and out between her butt cheeks: in and out; in and out.)

I heard what sounded like a rat tearing into a mattress in the bedroom with the closed door (scratching, grunts, wild sounds of fap slapping, which could have only been one thing), but I couldn’t have cared less.

I walked, holding Aly, through the open door, closed it behind me with the heel of my right foot.

I laid her out on the bed she had slept in so many nights without me.

Next door, my wife began to yelp with pleasure. (I imagined, with pleasure, Alex nutting inside a vagina for the first time.)

I knew, intuitively, that my wife was certainly getting off from having a gay man plow her. (But did she know I was in here with Aly?)

I buried my cock inside Aly’s pussy and went to town with her.

“Wrap your legs around me, baby,” I said.

She wrapped her legs around me tightly (I imagined the dimples at the small of her back), and then she wrapped me up in a tight bear hug with her tanned and toned arms.

“You’re not getting out of this one,” she said.

I plowed into Aly time after time, imagining all the times we had hugged at hello and hugged at goodbye, the touches never quite enough, and all the times we had swapped saliva through her vape pen.

“Bury that nut,” she groaned.

I continued to plow her throbbing crotch. She reached around behind me and began to massage my anus with a finger. I couldn’t get enough.

“That’s my ring finger,” she said. “Enjoy it.”

I came deep inside her in no time, her ring finger rubbing small circles around my wanting butthole, with massive spurts that would have surely plastered the ceiling had it been a contest.

I finished and lay on top of her, not yet ready to say good-bye.

“Oh my god,” Aly whimpered, my cock still inside her. She removed her finger from the ring of my anus, took it into her mouth, and sucked on it for a moment before returning it to my anus and continuing to rub small circles there, lovingly.

We lay like that for a moment.

“Next time I should give you a prostate massage,” she said.

We laughed, but all I wanted was to experience this same sensation all over again.

But there’s no time like the first time.

I met my wife outside the apartment, and we were both flushed but giggling.

“What the fuck,” I said.

She laughed. “Apparently, Ben gave Margot the first anal orgasm of her life.”

On the ride home, my wife and I held hands, but neither of us spoke.

For the next few days, all I could think about was Aly’s erect clit flicking the underside of my cock head as we’d sat there in the living room, wrapping each other tightly in warmth and the promise of promiscuous sex.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/z3cqh8/christmas_party_swap_swingers_cuckold_cheating