When a Plan Falls Apart
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
When a Plan Falls Apart
When Richard and Christy meet Jamil and Tydye
the white couple succumbs to the power of the black couple.
An interracial swinger’s Tale of white bisexual submission
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman
This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.
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When a Plan Falls Apart
Christy, my wife, and I took a trip last weekend to the coast. Los Angeles was hot and dry, and a wicked, hot wind blew down from the mountains, putting my nerves on a raw edge. Even at night, the Santa Anna wind blew through, adding the oppressive heat.
My wife didn’t notice the heat, her own body heat was hotter than the wind. She always ran warm, about 99.9 or 100 degrees. And it wasn’t a fever, not from illness, at least. No, her fire, sparked by her natural lust, was always there. For years Christy made no secret she wanted us to try swinging.
As for me, on swinging, I had less than a passing interest. I feared once she’d had a bigger cock, she’d no longer find my smaller-sized prick sufficient.
But you know how some women are. Christy’s continuous harping, pestering, nagging, whatever you want to call it, caused me to weaken on the idea. I haven’t an idea where she found it, but she had this sex newspaper. The fuck rag advertised a bash open to members and nonmembers alike at a local swing club. Also, it said, “Single men and women are welcome at the party.”
If I’m honest, I can’t keep up with my wife, and the thought of watching her fucking another man while I fuck his wife sparked my imagination. With this said, I had reservations about opening this door to our relationship.
We’d only been married a year. I was 24 years old, and Christy was 21. We had decades of life together in front of us. This swinging thing, well, it would be a leap, not a step. Despite my hesitance, she wanted to try it, and maybe it wouldn’t be all she hoped for.
“Can we please go there?” Christy looked at me with her big, bright blue eyes. “We’ll do a soft swing, no fucking, just oral. Please?”
“Okay,” I said, as my cock reacted positively. How my wife had stayed a virgin until I fucked her on our honeymoon, shit fire, I don’t know. In fact, that is the great mystery of my wife. In the back of my mind, a pestering voice worried me with an unending warning, ‘This is a mistake.’
My desire was to give her what she wanted, and hopefully, she’d realize she didn’t want this after all. A little louder in my mind, ‘This is a mistake.’
I pushed the voice from my mind, and as we walked into the club, I thought maybe, just maybe, my plan would work. The joint, packed to the rafters, gave off a cheap, nasty vibe. Freakish folks crowded into the main room. Women and men wore leather. They had massive amounts of makeup caked on the guys’ and gals’ faces, intermixed with more normal-looking couples, and tons of single men drifted about.
The single men circled the couples like sharks, ready to attack.
‘This is a mistake.’ Again, I pushed the pestering warning from my mind.
Nonetheless, I felt uneasy, excited, and terrified, rotating between the emotions as each battled for supremacy. Being we’re both short, me 5 feet 5, and her not quite 5 feet tall, I felt threatened in some undefined way. That isn’t to say there weren’t shorter people, but most, especially the men, stood tall. Women over five foot seven, men well above six feet. And there were the black men, tall, brawny fellers with muscles and massive bulges in their trousers.
The opportunities, danger, and airborne sexuality was a stimulant. One can lose oneself in this and not perceive when things take a turn.
Christy always told me she’d never want a cock bigger than mine. “Four inches is a perfect fit,” she said. So I felt confident she’d reject any of these men. Besides, only one couple was black, and the rest of the Negros were single, rough-looking men.
Believe me, I wasn’t a racist. However, black men, large Negros, scare the shit out of me.
The black woman approached us. “Hey, I’m Tydye. Jamil, my husband, and I would love to be with y’all in a room we booked. Let me make it clear, just you and me,” Tydye said to my wife.
“Oh, I’d love to try that,” Christy said. Turning to me, she turned on the teasing charm. “Please, baby doll, let me try some lesbo action?”
“Well, yeah, that sounds fine, but what will Jamil and I do?” I asked.