One of our SDC members submitted the following story to our “My Lifestyle Vacation” Erotic Writing Contest. Sign up today to submit your own amateur erotica.
By the time me and Em got to London, we were seasoned, comfortable swingers. Bad times were behind us, and we were in a new life, full of adventures. We played with bi couples and single girls back home in Florida. Our favorite type was vanillas, which we would snag and corrupt in the karaoke bars. We relished the challenge of picking up people for their first encounter. We were open about our lifestyle, which often led to curiosities from strangers, especially cute, shy couples. We were not shy in any way, and we had four nights in London.
To our surprise, London closed down a lot earlier than Miami. Me and Em found ourselves with few options. Our date hadn’t worked out, and it was too late to find a new one. In desperation, we decided to visit a bathhouse. The place was seedy and steamy. Desperate and assertive guys approached us, pretending to be staff, “to take us on tours.” Em was one of three women in the entire place, and everywhere we walked, strange men followed us. She was a steak in a kennel, and this was not our expectation.
We found an empty hot tub in a quiet corner, where only two dudes could see us. I thought it would be fun to fuck Em in this weird place. Em liked a little voyeurism, so I bent her over the side. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see the two guys watching us. After a few strokes, I felt a strange hand touching Em’s leg. I opened my eyes to find a mob of guys surrounding us. Three guys had even crept into the hot tub with us. Em looked up and audibly yelped, “YIPE!” Me and Em were into some freaky stuff, but the huddle of strange guys was overwhelming. We rushed away from the gang and into an empty playroom, where we quickly locked the door, a split second before the perusing guys behind us tried to block it. There, in the back sex room of the dingy and sleazy bathhouse, I made love to Em on a filthy rubber pad, as a zombie-horde of agonizing single guys banged on the door, trying to tell us they were the police, or they were staff anything to get us to open the door. Me and Em: crazy in love.
Irene and Gene Butterscotch were a proper British couple. When they answered our ad, they told us they were both bi. From my American perspective, Gene resembled a British schoolmaster. Irene was sexy, younger Mrs. Doubtfire, and they both spoke a jolly-ole’ English accent that Em and I couldn’t help but want to fuck. The Butterscotches said they had little experience with couples, so Em and I went slow, careful not to scare them away. We went on a fine date in a trendy restaurant. We started talking about accounting, and Em and I slowly moved the conversation to sex. They finally invited us to their room.
No sooner had the door closed than the Butterscotches ripped off their clothes to reveal black leather underwear and fetish gear. The Butterscotches were sex freaks! Gene’s cock was hard, and Irene had breasts like a renaissance sculpture. They were picturesque and kinky, and me and Em leaped on them. Me and Em and the Butterscothes fucked each other until we couldn’t breathe. We laid in the bed, gasping. Then, like that, Gene turned from sex maniac back into Gene Butterscotch, proper English Gentleman. We all four had tea, which Gene claimed, “is brilliant after proper romping,” then said our farewells.
On the third night, one couple stood apart from all options. Dougy and Alley had never been with a couple. They wanted to experiment for the first time. They were curious, they were young, and they were adorable. Dougy was a skateboarder who worked construction. He had a lean, muscular body. He was a bad boy, and he was horny. Alley was a bit more reserved. She was a beautiful, fierce, young, newlywed wife. She still wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go, and she asked me and Em questions as though we knew forbidden secrets. Me and Em: marriage gurus. We started at a karaoke bar in SOHO but quickly moved to a pub closer to their house, in Zone 4. Outside the main city, we experienced a London rarely seen by tourists.
The pub had a dance floor, and me and Em immediately started dancing. We always tried to be first to dance. When me and Em finally got the conversation onto sex, Alley told us that she was too nervous about having a foursome. However, she did want us all to go to their house for some baby steps. She wanted me and Em to have sex next to them. The cuteness melted us.
We went to Dougy and Alley’s small apartment. It was crowded and tiny, and there was just enough room for all four of us to stand in the kitchen. Dougy and Alley told us so much about themselves. Sex and swinging were new, and this moment was special for their marriage. I just thought about how far me and Em had come. We were once like Dougy and Alley: dabbling with terror and temptation. When we finally ended up in the living room, me and Em took our clothes off and began. Dougy and Alley just nervously watched for a moment. Alley took her shirt off, then Dougy took off his. Slowly they made love next to us. Dougy reached out and touched Em’s back, and Em pushed his hand away. “Alley says no,” Em whispered.
It was our last night. We had so many options, but only one mattered: We had been invited to a very exclusive bi orgy. The guest list looked extraordinary. Everyone was so beautiful, and it validated our own beauty that we were invited. Me and Em had one rule about orgies: always bring water. We were always prepared and had a liter of water in my coat pocket. Everyone was stunning! They were from all over the world, and each person was the embodiment of an international bisexual culture. Me and Em: sex representatives of America. I quickly noticed no one else had brought water. So, I hid our water in the foyer with our coats.
Once we were all in the room, me and Em immediately took off our clothes. Me and Em always tried to be first to get naked. At one point in the night, I recall a beautiful woman from Italy. Her ass was so small. I remember a foot, I was holding. I didn’t know whose foot it was. I was having sex with someone, and someone was touching me from behind. I remember watching Em. There were small groups and large groups. Fourteen of us fucked each other for hours.
Of all my memories, of the perfect bodies and the beautiful lips, the most memorable that night was me and Em sneaking back into the foyer and desperately drinking our hoarded water. It was the secret to our vitality. It was our superpower: me and Em. We flew home the next morning.
Something had changed. Our spiral had grown deeper, and our love had grown stronger. Me and Em: tight-roping between sanity and depravity, breathing in lightning with every peering.
This story was submitted by one of our members to the My Lifestyle Vacation Erotic Writing Contest. SDC announced the winner of this contest on November 12th, 2020. Our editor made minor adjustments to this story for length and clarity.
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