Lessons in Fireball

 

Alcohol and swinging go together like cock and pussy. Being tipsy helps ease the nerves felt in new situations, makes you more sociable, and generally increases the fun factor. It also has significant potential to turn a great night into a disaster. I call those disasters learning experiences. It’s a fine line. One of our disasters/learning experiences stands out above the rest. It was a typical house party. 20 or so couples, a unicorn or two. Various levels of experience and preference. After full swapping for six months, we were comfortable with same room play only.

Scene: 5 shots of fireball into my skinny self. A sexy new friend introducing his experienced tongue to my eager pussy. Throw in one of my favorite guys making out with me at the same time. There was a lot going on. It was dreamy. Apparently my husband approached me in that blissful, distracted moment and said his girl of choice for the night, Ellie, was ready to go upstairs. He attempted to get me upstairs to make it a foursome with her husband, but I was in the land of pleasure and didn’t hear a word of it. I waved my hand and said “yeah, whatever, go.” I was trying to cum and he was breaking my focus. Several minutes later I came to, thanked my attentive playmates and began looking around for my husband. Ellie’s husband said, “he’s upstairs fucking Ellie.” Immediately fire began racing through my veins. Or maybe that was the fireball. We’ve never played in separate rooms, how could he think this was okay? He didn’t even ask, he just assumed I would be fine with it? Did he not care how I felt? He was so focused on getting his rocks off with the petite, super fit Spanish girl he forgot to invite me to the party? Whatever the reason, I was fuming! I stomped upstairs, flung open the door, and walked in on Ellie going down on my husband. “What the fuck are you doing? Thanks for the invite! This is fucking bullshit!” Ellie quickly put her panties on and left the room. My two playmates from earlier spoke up. “You gave them permission.” “What?! When? No I didn’t!” I vaguely began to remember as they pieced together the details for me. I apologized to my annoyed, disappointed husband. And then to Ellie. I begged her to come back upstairs with me and please my husband. She had some semi-believable excuse, but I knew I had killed the mood and made her hesitant to play with drama.

An hour later, another shot or two down, I had sex with a guy I had met that night while I sucked my husband’s cock. And vice versa. My husband had been mingling with others while I connected with the new couple earlier, so he was left with me to play with. Looking back, I could tell he was bothered by it all, but I was in fantasy land and kept selfishly feeding my desires. A few of us were lounging on the couches naked, chatting and laughing. One of my favorites started making out with me again and was soon between my thighs. The next thing I know my husband is sternly calling my name. “It’s time to go. We’re leaving.” I opened my eyes, surprised by the anger in his voice and face. I was confused and began questioning him. He wouldn’t speak until we got to the car. Apparently I hadn’t realized he had left the room when things got hot and heavy with my oral friend. He returned to find another man licking my pussy. Pretty much exactly what I had thrown a public, boner-killing tantrum about two hours prior.

Two significant lessons learned that night. Don’t change your rules when you’re in the moment. We had discussed various situations in detail, in a sober state, and mutually agreed upon our comfort levels. Changing your rules while intoxicated has a strong possibility of leading to drama and regret. This leads us to the second, more encompassing lesson. Control your alcohol intake. Know your limits and stick with them. Like all things in life, moderation is key. Particularly when it involves the deliciously evil fireball.

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