Swappers' Rights by Greg Orr
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“Mmm! Oh, Fred! Oh, darling!”

Lying on the other twin bed in the same room, illuminated by the lamp on the night table, I listened to the woman’s cries of ecstasy and wondered how I’d gotten into this situation. The woman was my wife.

I could understand why Fred Nelson had become involved. The woman lying like a log under me was Lydia, his wife. My cock was buried in her-not quite buried, actually-about three inches short of complete interment, leaving my balls dangling in space. A hysterectomy had shortened her vaginal barrel and her cunt was as dry as a gopher hole.

This was our first swap party. The rules required that couples attending for the first time must occupy the same bedroom with the partners which chance had assigned them. Pairing this night had been, decided by the old-fashioned parlor game of ‘Spin the Bottle,’ with the women in a small circle, and the men taking turns in the center whirling an empty Coke. Unlike the game played by teen-agers of the dead days of the past, the payoff was not a kiss. And you crapped out, losing your turn, if the mouth of the bottle pointed to your wife. I never had my turn at the bottle, ending up with Lydia. The party would have been a complete fiasco for me-Lydia had no interest in intercourse-except for the fact that she had proved herself the world’s most accomplished expert in the art of fellatio.

Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.

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