The other guy fucked me first, and well, from what I remember. The sheets and I were drenched in his sweat. I caught a few glimpses of J sharing a seemingly passionate moment with the other girl. I hoped someone would eventually ding the bell and call out SWITCH. I wanted a turn with that gorgeous man. If he fucked like he fingered, I would not be disappointed. He eventually made his way over to my bed and stuck his dick inside of me without haste. He said to the other guy, “Now I see why you’re sweating. She’s energetic.” Or something along those lines. (I’ve always preferred a vigorous pounding in the swinger scene. Hard, quick, rough. Flip me over, grab my shoulders for leverage. Slap my ass, make me your fuck toy. I’ll tell you when to dive deeper. And when to stick a finger in my ass. Beg you not to stop. That’s my happy place. And I almost always get what I want.)
That first time, he fucked me somewhere in between. Not too hard, not too fast. Not dirty, nor aggressive. He seemed cautious, respectful. Truthfully I don’t recall many explicit details from that experience. What I can’t forget is how intense his eyes felt holding my gaze. How his eyes squinted closed and his head tilted back slightly as his pleasure heightened. And the way he exhaled in short bursts through pursed lips. (A sound that has since become so incredibly erotic that I play it again and again in my mind, sometimes even mimicking it out loud as I touch myself and pretend he’s inside of me.)
The conversations we shared throughout the trip made for an effortless connection. He was the perfect combination of confidence, humor and flirtation. His sarcasm and honesty matched mine. Once mid week we almost missed each other in the hall. I turned around at the last second to see his adorably contagious smile as we greeted one another quickly in passing. It was a short, simple moment, but I walked away thinking “Hmm… there’s something about that guy.” We fucked again in two separate orgies. My husband noted how I seemed to be drawn to J, as every time he turned around we were chatting and flirting.
We closed out our vacation with a more intimate foursome. During that last session he sparked something that left me curious and craving more. He was fucking me missionary. His cock pressed firmly and repetitively against my anterior wall, which made me feel like I was going to poop. I pushed his hips back to release my legs and adjust. He swiftly and forcefully grabbed my wrists, pinned them down and fucked me even harder. I couldn’t have moved if I tried. But I didn’t try. That minor display of dominance had a palpable effect on my body. He was using me. And I fucking loved it.
The four of us stayed up until the early morning discussing our relationships and experiences. We learned that we were at similar points in our journeys. All a bit burnt out on the swinger scene, searching for more intimate extramarital connections. Their commitment and security was refreshing and relatable.
He gave me his number and told me to keep in touch. Within a week I texted him anonymously. He could tell by the sarcastic flirtation it was me. He suggested we talk on the phone. A first for me with another man. And so began our long distance friendship.