An American Swinger in London. [MFM]

A short time ago, I was in London for the New Year and realized exactly how feels to be a single woman meeting a strange man on a dating app. The fear, the anxiety, the sinking I’ll be sold at an auction like Liam Neeson’s daughter in *Taken.*

*How much money would I fetch?*

*I’ve got to be at least above average, right?*

*Oh god, what if I’m picked last?*

Guys typically don’t feel the nerves same way women do.

This night, like times before, started with a Tinder match. I sat on my bed aimlessly swiping right to find a cute girl with a British accent. My friends and I were staying in a rather nice hotel, not because we could afford it, but because our Air BnB had been such an awful experience. The company put us up across the street for free. Since it was a day before New Year’s Eve, there weren’t any other viable (or cheaper) alternatives. Our shitty luck had turned into good fortune.

My phone dinged with an alert of a new match. She was a cute blonde named Anna. We quickly made small talk and determined we were both only visiting for the holiday. And it turned out she was four blocks away, staying in a rather nice hotel herself.

The subtext was clear: neither of us were seeking anything long-term.

Anna: Wanna come over?

I tried to play it cool.

Me: Sure.

Me: Need to shower first.

Anna: Sounds good.

This night was off to a great start.

Anna: But I should probably mention something.

*Uh oh.*

Anna: I have a boyfriend.

*Fuck.*

Anna: Is that a problem?

Me: I mean, that’s really between the two of you.

Anna: He’s here with me.

*Oh.*

Anna: He wants to watch.

*Ohhhhhh.*

Me: Then we’ll have to put on a good show. ;)

Ok, so that’s not technically what I said.

Anna: When you get here, we’ll give you our room number.

Though the addition of the boyfriend was a curveball, it certainly wasn’t a deal breaker. I’d had a few group experiences with an ex-girlfriend, but this was brand new territory for me as a single male.

There was a slight fear in the back of my mind that this could be all be a ruse to rob horny tourists. But this was my second trip to Europe, and I’d since become a seasoned vet in avoiding gypsy street scams. Anna seemed real enough in the ten minutes we spent chatting.

I handed my wallet and passport to Adam.

Me: I need you to hang onto these for me.

He shot me a puzzled look.

Me: Also, I’ll be at [redacted] hotel. So if I go missing, tell Scotland Yard that’s where I was seen last.

Adam: What the fuck is going on?

Me: I’m meeting up with a girl on Tinder.

My friends also happened to be my co-workers, and there was no chance I was revealing my penchant for group activities with them.

As I trudged down the street in below freezing temperatures, I kept whispering under my breath, “This is so fucking dumb.” But I was powerless to stop.

Whenever women say they’re as horny as men, I have to kindly explain to them the underlying drive present in *every* male brain. There was a very real chance I could be robbed, killed, or persuaded into buying a timeshare. Yet none of this deterred me from the allure of an orgasm.

I entered the hotel lobby and plopped down on a couch. I was too cheap to buy a foreign SIM card, so I relied on various free WiFi. It had been around twenty minutes since we last spoke. I opened up Tinder and shot them message.

Me: I’m here.

Anna: Thought you were gonna be here ten minutes ago? We’re in Room #442. It’s open.

I stepped onto the elevator and pressed the button for my floor. I nonchalantly made small talk with the other guest to calm my nerves.

Me: Happy new year.

He nodded back.

The doors slid open on the 4th floor, and I stepped out. Based on the room numbers nearest to me, they had to be close. As I made my way through the hallway, my heart began to race like Tigger on a coke binge.

#438…

#440…

#442.

Finally.

The door was propped open by the deadbolt.

I took a deep breath and slowly pushed through. Much like a 90s slasher film, the room was completely dark except for the flicker of a low volume TV. I didn’t hear any voices acknowledge my presence.

I kept my feet in the hall and began leaning my head farther into the room. Still nothing. But I couldn’t get the best vantage point from this angle.

At this point, most sane people would’ve turned around and walked right the fuck out of there. But my cock was in full control of this mission, and my orders were clear.

This time I leaned my torso into the room and kept my feet at the base of the door. In case, you know, I needed to make a quick getaway.

Then I saw movement.

The bottoms of two feet over the base of the bed which I presumed belonged to Anna. And those feet were evidence enough for me. I pulled the deadbolt back and locked the door behind me.

I approached the bed and got my first view of the couple. Anna was fully naked on all fours and blowing her muscular boyfriend, whose back was against the headboard. He looked like Ivan Drago but sounded like Vladimir Putin. In a heavy eastern European accent, he made his acquaintance.

Ivan: You’re late.

I’d never been more happy to hear the words.

Ivan: Take off your clothes.

…And more terrified to hear those.

It wasn’t a request so much as a command. But I readily complied as I continued to admire Anna’s handiwork. After I pulled off my boxers, he gave me the next instruction.

Ivan: Lick her.

Sir, yes, sir.

I knelt behind her and began to suck and tease her clit. She had been clearly anticipating this moment because it didn’t take long for her to drip. She wiggled her ass in my face and reached back to grab a handful of my hair. There are few things hotter than a woman who forces a man’s face deeper into her pussy.

After riding in the caboose of the tongue train for a few minutes, Ivan decided it was my turn to conduct. He instructed Anna to spin around and return the favor.

Her mouth and dexterous digits worked my cock so well, I had to pull her off a few times to make sure I didn’t prematurely explode. While this was going on, Ivan watched intently and rubbing his cock on her right ass cheek. Probably not what I’d have done, but I’m not one to judge.

After a few more minutes of this, he gave his final direction.

Ivan: Cum in her mouth.

I nodded. Anna worked faster. In a matter of seconds, I unleashed what could be more accurately described as a miniature geyser. Judging by her arched brow, she was even surprised by the sheer volume.

It’d been at least a week since I’d played with myself. Normally I wouldn’t deprive myself for so long, but there’s something awkward about masturbating in the shower of quaint European flats. Even though Air BnB is similar enough to a hotel room, it still felt like I was desecrating a foreign friend’s home with my perversion.

To Anna’s credit, she swallowed every drop. She then got up to clean herself off in the bathroom. To be honest, I was a bit disappointed I wouldn’t get to see what was behind door number two. I’d brought condoms, and she was dripping wet. But beggars, choosers, etc.

Ivan checked the time on the bedside clock.

Ivan: Shit. We’re late for dinner.

I took my cue. Though I never got his real name, Ivan was nothing if not completely honest and to the point. I liked that about him.

I collected my clothing and quickly got dressed like a sorority girl the morning after winter formal.

Ivan: Thank you.

Me: She’s gorgeous. You’re a lucky man.

We shook hands.

On my way out, I gave Anna a hug.

I rode the elevator down to the lobby still feeling the rush of the moment. As I made my way back into the brisk British air, I had a smile plastered on my face and a memory seared into my brain. It marked the beginning of my journey into the wonderful world of swinging as a single male, but it would not be my last.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5p1cy5/an_american_swinger_in_london_mfm