This story is a little embarrassing for me to tell, because some of the things that Carmen and I did could easily be considered perverted. I don't embarrass easily, and I like most things to do with sex, but even I blush a little when I think about what I did to my boyfriend without his consent.
It started about three months ago when Carmen and Peter Mallory moved into the apartment next to mine. Although I have a great boyfriend, I enjoy the freedom of living alone.
Jeff (my boyfriend) lives about thirty minutes away, but stays over two or three nights during the week, and almost always on Friday and Saturday nights. It was one of those lazy Saturdays in central Oregon; overcast and rainy. Jeff and I had stayed in bed late, making love in a slow and feel-good way until late morning. When at last we did get up, we lazed around the place and ate breakfast on my covered balcony.
We were just finishing up when a big van pulled into our long driveway. My apartment is in a big old mansion that has been converted into six units. I knew the apartment behind mine was empty, and that new tenants were expected to move in soon, but I knew nothing about them.
So, being the snoop that I am, I made Jeff stay out on the balcony with me while we waited for a glimpse of them. I think we were both interested in what they would be like, but all we saw at first was the top of this 24-foot van. Then a couple got out of the truck and pulled the rear roll-up door open.
My first impression of them was one of surprise. The woman was wearing short cutoffs; and I mean SHORT cutoffs. She must have cut the pockets out of them, because you'd have been able to see the white material hanging out if there had been any. It looked kind of slutty, and that interested me. I looked over at Jeff and could see that he was interested now too. I also had my first sight of the husband. He was worth looking at - one of those hard-bodied guys with smooth, hairless skin, and a light tan that looked like it probably covered his whole body - if you know what I mean.
They looked to be in their mid-thirties, and were obviously athletic. I began to hope that I might soon have a couple of new running partners; both of them looked as if they could be runners.
I like to run about ten miles every evening at dusk, but Jeff is always reading me the riot act about "women running alone on a deserted road at night". It would be great if I could get my new neighbors to go with me, I thought. It's more fun to run with someone, and though they were probably fifteen years older than me, I didn't think either one of them would have any trouble keeping up.
With that thought in the back of my mind, I suggested we get dressed and help our new neighbors move in. We threw on our Levis, both of us coincidentally grabbing one of Jeff's company's black T-shirts which say "Structural Engineers Keep It Up Longer", and went down to introduce ourselves. We made our way noisily down the spiral stairs, two steps at a time, which is how we normally descend from my crows- nest apartment.
As we hit the bottom of the staircase we almost fell into the lady as she came through the door.
She looked surprised at first, but after introductions and our offer to help she soon recovered, pulling us outside by our arms to meet her husband. "Peter! Look what we have here! Free labor, and they dress alike too!" We got to know each other pretty well after that. Both Carmen and Peter are runners, just as I'd thought they might be, and I found myself with company on my evening jogs.
Carmen and I ran every evening, and Peter joined us whenever he was home. He works in the forestry industry as an inspector, and has to spend at least one night, and sometimes two or three nights, a week, out on the road, depending on the time of year.
Carmen and I quickly became close friends, the age difference making no difference to either of us. She confided in me as if I was her sister, and I found myself doing the same. She wasn't shy about life issues either. She and Peter had moved into the apartment just behind mine, and our bedrooms abutted each other's.
The lady who was there before them had been as quiet as a church mouse, but I found I could hear every sound Carmen and Peter made.
(The previous tenant must have had some interesting nights listening to Jeff and me going at it in my bedroom.) Carmen didn't have to work, but seemed very interested in my job. Doing research for a marketing company on the Internet is unusual as a full-time job, I know, but I couldn't understand why Carmen was so interested in the details. Then, one evening after we'd just finished our run, she explained. "I hope this doesn't shock you, Kristen, but Peter and I used to belong to a swingers' club in Portland." We were doing our stretching/cooling-off exercises outside in the yard at the time, and my interest was piqued.
I'd never before met anyone into that sort of thing. Carmen didn't wait for me to say anything, but forged ahead, a slight quiver in her voice. "You see, the reason we moved into the hinterlands of Oregon is that Peter had become jealous of my relationships with other men. He was doing the same with other women, but couldn't take me doing it." I couldn't believe it. I stood in a half-crouch in mid-stretch, staring at this attractive woman and imagin- ing her having sex with half the male population of Portland.
My mouth may have been open - I can't remember.
True to form, she didn't let the silence draw out, and quickly came to the point. "The reason I'm telling you my little secret, Kristen, is that you said you did Internet work. Well, I don't have a computer, and was wondering if I might use yours to e-mail some old flames, and maybe download a few pictures." This I could understand.
When I first started on the Internet, it hadn't taken me long to start trading smut with other smut-worshippers. I got over that picture phase, but I still dabble in erotic texts, and keep in touch with a newsgroup or two. I smiled knowingly. "Sure, Carmen, any time you like. My schedule is super-flexible and you can use my computer whenever the urge strikes." She laughed at the smirk on my face and explained: "It's just that after all the sexual activity I've been used to, I need something extra to keep up the intensity.
Peter is a great lover, but I still find that I need some external stimulation to keep the spice in our sex." "No problem, and I know exactly what you mean.
I do a little erotic story-writing myself, and Jeff and I read sexy stories to each other from time to time." I felt that I did know what she meant, but time would show that I was a real innocent compared to Carmen. She took me up on my offer immediately, dragging me up to my bedroom office and getting me to log on. Once I'd logged on to the Internet for her, I told her to be sure to shut everything down when she finished, and that I'd be in the kitchen, cleaning up, if she needed anything.
She surprised me again by begging me to stay and meet her on-line friends. "I don't want to get into trouble with Peter, and I figure that if you're here with me, it'll seem more like us girls messing around than me surfing the swingers' network." I tried to make an excuse, but Carmen continued pleading with me to stay, and since I was curious anyway, I let her talk me into staying.
In short order she was book-marking sites I'd never heard of before, real-time chat rooms and newsgroups. She seemed to be well known in the chat rooms, and had her own Hotmail account called [email protected]
I was amazed at the number of people she managed to contact in such a short time. And the kind of things she said really opened my eyes! I guess Carmen hadn't exaggerated when she said that she and Peter had been swingers. In one chat room at least four guys told her how much they'd missed her, and praised her attributes to the skies.
Well, after two hours of this I was simmering. I'd never known anyone in real life having had sex with so many people, and I couldn't help wondering how she could still look so good, when she must have abused her body with that kind of life style.
Later that evening, I bombarded Carmen with questions about the swinging sub-culture, and she seemed to enjoy answering even the most intimate ones.
Apparently, both she and Peter kept tallies on how many people they had sex with. Carmen shocked me when she said that she'd had 312 partners over the past five years, not all of them men.
From that night we shared a new, secret life, one that we kept from both Peter and Jeff. I couldn't tell Jeff because he and Peter were becoming buddies; Jeff might let something slip, and I didn't want to get Carmen into trouble with her husband.
Things went on like this for a month or so. Carmen would come over to my place in the evening when Jeff wasn't there, and we'd submerge ourselves in this perverted world of swinging, cheating, sexual contact with people who were actually doing it. Then, about two weeks ago, after a particularly steamy evening of Internet surfing and chat, it happened. Carmen logged off and turned to me, putting her hands on my knees and looking searchingly into my eyes. I almost jumped out of my chair.
I'd just changed into my running gear, and was wearing a tank top and running shorts. And having her hand on my bare knee really made me feel funny. I'd been turned on all night because Carmen had been having some really imaginative cybersex with "Prince", one of her favorites; so my nerves were already on end.
I needed to run in order to wear off some of the sexual tension that had built up in me. Gently massaging my thigh, Carmen said: "You know, I'd love to see you and Jeff make love to each other." You could have heard a pin drop in the room as I sat there, looking back into her smiling eyes.
I was instantly aroused. Up to that point, my sexual excitement had been unfocused; I had been a spectator only. Now, with this experienced older woman rubbing my leg and staring into my eyes, I knew something exciting was about to happen. I found it difficult to breathe, and all I was able to say was: "Jeff wouldn't go for that; and what about Peter?" "They don't have to know anything about it.
I'm thinking about shared voyeurism. You can watch Peter and me as much as you want. You can even invite Jeff to watch if you think he'd like it." I was still a little stunned. "But.I don't know, Carmen; that's a little over the top, don't you think? I mean, if we went down that road, mightn't we mess up a good friend- ship?" She looked at me seriously.
"Kristen, I would never jeopardize our friendship, honest. It's just that I've been fantasizing about you and Jeff for months now. After being with you so many evenings, cruising the swingers' pages and, well, - to you guys through the wall, I thought maybe we knew each other well enough for me to suggest something I know would be fun - that's all." The more I thought about it, the more the idea appealed to me.
If we could arrange it in such a way as not to be caught, it would be a maximum rush. I wasn't at all bashful about having sex with Jeff, and the thought of this attractive woman watching me enjoy him turned me on like a current of electricity.
Besides, she'd just be watching. I smiled and said: "So, how could we watch each other without the guys catching us?" "Simple, sweetheart, a peephole," she said. I was confused now. "Huh? I thought we'd have to hide in the wardrobe or something." "We'll have a strategically-placed peephole in our joint bedroom wall; that way neither of us will know if we're being watched.
It'll pep up the sex with our men every time." She smiled radiantly. I was so horny by this time that I agreed with Carmen just so that she'd go home; I needed to relieve my sexual tension, and wasn't ready for anyone to watch me do it. She understood and smiled, taking my hand and pulling me gently over to my bed.
I guessed what she had in mind, but didn't know how to react. I wanted Carmen to leave, but I was also excited by the unknown. What would she do? I felt my heart pounding, almost painfully, in my throat.
I sat down on the bed and Carmen knelt down in front of me. Almost whispering, she said: "You're going to like this; trust me, Kristen." I looked down at my lap and saw a small wet spot on the front of my shorts.
My body felt unbelievably hot; nothing like this had ever happened to me before! She pulled open the snap on the waistband of my clinging shorts, and I watched numbly while the zipper was pulled down. She began to tug at the waistband, trying to remove the shorts. I suddenly remembered that I wasn't wearing underwear, and flushed with embarrassment at the thought of Carmen's likely reaction. Then the foolishness of that thought hit me full force!
I was being stripped by another woman, and worrying that she might find me improperly dressed! I giggled a little hysterically at the absurdity of the idea. In no time at all Carmen, with a little help from me, had removed my shorts, leaving me naked from the waist down and still giggling (though sobbing might be the more appropriate word). I was so nervous I didn't know whether I was coming or going. Carmen pushed me backwards onto the bed, and directed my right hand between my legs, whispering in my ear: "Honey, I want to see you come!
Bring yourself off for Carmen. Come for me, baby!" She put her hand over mine and began rubbing slowly up and down my pussy. I was embarrassed at first, but amazing feelings were going through my body. I forgot all about modesty and began masturbating, right in front of Carmen - and it felt good!
She lay down beside me with her face only inches away from my cunt. Meanwhile I kept up a good rhythm, rubbing my palm back and forth over my swollen clit, and soon felt a gigantic orgasm begin to rise within my body.
Carmen moaned, and I felt her chin pressing against my hip bone. I began to thrust my fingers into my vagina as deep as I could force them. I was on fire. "GOD! OH Goooooooodd!!" The air rushed out of my lungs as my orgasm exploded inside me, leaving me shivering and shaking in ecstasy. I imagined myself as Carmen, watching me come a few inches from her face.
My body was writhing around as a result of my own handwork, and now her hands joined in. As I came in long, sobbing shivers, I felt both of Carmen's hands roaming over and between my parted thighs, and her lips kissing me high on my inner thigh.
The electric sen- sations lasted longer than in any previous orgasm of mine.
Eventually the spasms slowed down, and I was about to relax when Carmen moved in between my legs, forcing them even wider, and began to run her tongue over and around my throbbing clit.
I couldn't take it. It was all too intense for me, and I started to scream: "NO, Carmen! NO! STOP! PLEASE STOP! YOU'RE KILLING ME. GOD, YES!" I had completely lost control of my reactions. That had never happened to me before; even in my most powerful orgasms I'd maintained some element of control. This time, though, Carmen had played me like a musical instrument, and my body was so sexually overloaded that I came close to blacking out.
Eventually, either she thought I'd had enough or was afraid that the noise I was making would bring someone in to investigate, she took her mouth out of my crotch. I can still remember how it felt.
My cheeks were wet with tears, and I couldn't stop sobbing. Carmen lay beside me and hugged me. "See how good it can be when someone's watching?!" she said.
She was smiling that brilliant smile of hers, and slowly my sobs turned back into giggles as we cuddled on the bed. I don't remember Carmen leaving that night. I fell asleep and didn't wake until eight o'clock the next morning, when I found myself naked in bed, with the covers pulled up to my chin. I never felt better in my life. Continued in part 2. ~~~~~~~~ "You'll find that many of the things we hold to be true, are only that, from a certain point of view."