Written by Graham

7 Aug 2009

I am writing this without my wife's knowledge but I think she might be willing to change her view on swinging following a very interesting episode when we were staying in London a few weeks ago. I found this site following research on the net and your stories section is a great way to share experiences. We are in our 50's, live about 60 miles north of London in a very rural community, running our own businesses from our home.

I shall call my wife A. She is very attractive, slim with a lovely figure, nice boobs, shapely legs, all thanks I think to horse riding two or three times a week. Once in a blue moon we go to London for a week, staying in a well known hotel, booking one of their executive suits with their large beds, settee, large TV screen, and well appointed bathrooms. From there we fanned out to shop, visit galleries, museums, going to the theatre and restaurants.

We enjoy our sex, A often being the instigator, her favourite position is riding me, or me doing her from behind, doggie style. We have a number of porn DVD's we occasionally put on, a favourite being one about couples swinging which leads to some very enjoyable sex and me suggesting to A we should consider meeting with some couples. A has never rejected it outright but she is very unsure about the types we'd meet.

It was in May, the last night of our week was a Saturday and we went for a meal and onto see The Jersey Boys, then back to our hotel where we decided to have a nightcap in the bar, although we had plenty of wine in our room. It was late so we weren't surprised to see the bar empty apart from a well dressed older guy sitting on his own.

We got ourselves a Champagne cocktail, sat at the bat chatting to the barmen. Five minutes or so later the old gent came to the bar for a refill. We exchanged a few pleasantries with him, us discovering he was in town for his sister's funeral on Monday, his wife opting to stay at home which we also discovered was only about 20 miles from where we lives. Small world.

He was good looking, introduced himself as 'Ginger' , said he was about to celebrate his 70th birthday, a major, ex-army, with a very smartly turned out moustache to match his blazer, blue shirt and regimental tie, cavalry twill trousers and highly polished brown brogues.

Ginger sat on a stool opposite A, and it wasn't long before he was entertaining us with his army stories, only too pleased to stand us a round of cocktails. It didn’t take too long before his anecdotes became increasingly risque and I became increasingly aware that he was in conversation with A, me very superfluous, Ginger appreciating more and more A's legs, wonderfully revealed by her tight little black dress which was only a few inches short of the knee but had ridden up during Ginger's entertaining stories, the lace tops of her hold up stockings clearly on show.

A returned his attention and laughed increasingly louder and longer at each of his blue jokes, letting him hold her hand as he complimented A on her dark plum nail varnish, lent forward to whisper in her ear, she laughing out loud at whatever he had told her, crossing her legs to reveal even more stocking top, she doing nothing when he placed a hand on her knee, she playing with his copper wrist bracelet.

‘Chaps, why don’t we go upstairs? We have a settee and an armchair, darn sight more comfortable than these barstools, and plenty to drink…’ A slid off her stool and we followed.

In the room Ginger took his place on the settee as I poured him a large neat whiskey, glasses of wine for me and A who asked to be excused, ‘Sorry, I need to get into something more comfortable…this dress is so tight it’s killing me!’

She disappeared into the bathroom, returning ten minutes later, in a white terry toweling bathrobe, make-up and hair re-freshened, dimming the lights, sitting alongside Ginger, the robe falling away to reveal her stockinged legs.

I sat on the armchair, now just an observer of my wife and Ginger, wondering with an increasing sexual thrill just what she would do next. After a few minutes of increasingly risqué banter Ginger lent forward and eased open A’s robe, she doing nothing to stop him, indeed she assisting, pulling the robe’s belt away. Ginger knew he had my approval as he eased A’s left breast from its bra cup and kissed the nipple.

A immediately threw her head back, moaning low her pleasure as he kissed, sucked and bit the nipple, eventually letting out an ‘oh my god!’ falling back, Ginger opening her robe as he would a package or present, his eyes feasting on A’s trim figure, her black lacy knickers and stockings.

He lent forward and kissed her neck, easing her knickers away, two fingers entering her. As before, A again let out a low moan, as Ginger found her clitoris. As they kissed she placed her arms around his shoulders while he unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his twill trousers.

My god! I thought, my excitement level suddenly rocketing, he’s going to have my wife! And what’s more she wants it! This was all very new to me (and A of course) and I felt so aroused, I released my own penis, stroking it gently as I watched this old but very tutored rascal go to work.

He eased A’s knickers lower, she raising her thighs, closing her legs, making it easier for him to pull the flimsy nylon down and over her feet. She re-parted her legs and Ginger maneouvered his erection closer to A’s vagina, she lending a hand to guide it, Ginger obviously not put off by her very bushy pubes.

I watched transfixed as her labia parted, the thick head of Ginger’s tool disappearing effortlessly, quickly followed by his tool’s remaining six or so inches, A letting out a ‘oh my god! That feels so good!’ as Ginger thrust his tool in all the way.

I salivated, aroused, as Ginger worked his hips to and fro, his cock riding slowly in and out, glistening with A’s juices, both of them completely oblivious to me in the armchair, stroking my erection, A lost in a continuous low moaning, whispering an occasional ‘…that is so good…don’t stop…it feels so good….you feel so big…it’s fantastic…’

Ginger didn’t look as if he was in a rush, obviously wanting to enjoy every second of every minute, deep slow thrusts that had the tip of his tool at A’s womb, his mouth busy at A’s nipples, both of them very erect, he occasionally biting into the heavy flesh of both A’s breasts, or his lips on A’s, in a long passionate kiss, tongue deep inside her mouth, her hands tight around his shoulders, he breaking away to bite her ear or neck.

Then Ginger began to increase the pace of his long, deep thrusts, A responding instantly with moans that slowly grew in intensity and loudness, ‘…oh my god! Yes! Yes! Fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…that’s it…don’t stop, please….don’t stop….’

I hastily pulled A’s knickers off the floor, wrapping them around my long, throbbing shaft. Just in time! I shot gallons into the flimsy lace, giving out my own moan of ecstasy, eyes wide open but off in my own personal nirvana.

Back on earth Ginger was now pumping A like some human steam hammer, A repeating over and over, louder and louder, ‘…yes…yes…yes…yes…’ Ginger’s thick glistening tool moving at the speed of light in and out of A’s opening.

Then he froze, gave out a low ‘yeeeeesss!’ and exploded his climax inside A, falling forward to kiss her, she responding with an energetic passion.

The ecstasy subsided, Ginger went limp and slowly exited, a great dollop of milky sperm on the tip of his tool. Then A put her hands either side of her head, ‘Oh my god, what have I done?’ Looking at me with anger on her face, then back to Ginger, ‘Get off me, you dirty old man!’ She pushed him away and run off to the bathroom, wiping Ginger’s sperm off her thigh onto her robe.

He gave me a quizzical look, ‘Sorry old chap, it’s what you wife wanted. Don’t know why she’s behaving like that…’

‘Don’t worry Ginger. Best get dressed and go…’

‘I’d like to see you both again…here’s my card…ring any time, it’s my mobile…’

Ginger dressed and left, and when A came out I couldn’t help but notice the bites on her neck and breasts. She put her arms around me, ‘Why didn’t you stop him…that dirty old man going inside your wife…’

‘He wasn’t a dirty old man. He was handsome, intelligent, funny, and you fancied him…’

We didn’t discuss it any further. I cleaned up the room as A went to bed. By the time I got to the bed she was in a deep sleep. Nothing more was said about our experience with Ginger, A putting it at the back of her mind.

Then about a month later she mentioned it. She was no longer disgusted by what happened and over breakfast began to talk about what she and Ginger had got up to, being very complimentary about his lovemaking, the size of his tool, and the amount of sperm, for an ‘oldie’, he ejaculated inside her. I had to ask the question, ‘Do you want me to contact Ginger, ask him over, he lives only 20 miles away…’

‘I don’t know…let me think about it…’

‘Or we look on the web, see if we can find a young single guy to join us…’

A smiled, ‘Sounds interesting, show me…’

And that’s where we left it, that’s why I think she is maybe changing her mind on swinging, why I’ve written this report of what happened to us that Saturday night back in May.