Literary Erotica
By Lord Malinov

I was working as a waiter in a cocktail bar when I met June. A suburban pub with low lights and a dance floor, we hosted an older crowd and packed them in on the weekends. The first time I saw her, an attractive middle-aged housewife, she flirted rather brazenly with me. Leaned over low, baring the deep vale of her well-developed décolletage, I couldn’t help but show an interest and considered my chances. A gentleman showed up and after a few turns around the room, buying drinks for one woman after another, he settled on June, spoke a few cheezy pick-up lines and took her away. I felt a bit crushed, a bit disappointed, seeing the woman I had laid claim to in my mind won over by some random schmuck. He was well below her threshold, I thought, but there is no accounting for taste.

A few weeks later, June was back. I kept my distance, assuming I was out of the running already but she relentlessly flirted with me and then with a guy who bought her a drink. I let myself be hopeful when she finally shooed the drink-buyer away. Then that guy, the schmuck from a few weeks back, showed up and though he ignored her at first, she kept her eyes on him. He flirted around and finally settled down next to June. As though they’d never met, he seduced her with variants of the same corny lines that had worked last time.

I began to wonder if maybe I should be writing his schmaltz down, so effective it appeared. Then I figured it out. Henry and June were married and were playing a naughty game, pretending to be strangers and picking each other up.

One night, after they’d played the room and went through the fiction of first sight, I had a long conversation with them about their game. Tedium had overtaken their marriage and in search of new thrills, they dressed to the nines and indulged in the feeling of being attractive again. Pretending to be single, working the room, feeling the heat and the stares, the emotions rising and raging and swirling in a mad crash, they reignited their youthful spark and capped it off with meeting someone who likes them straight away, who laughs at their stupid jokes, who wants them and wants them badly. They took their pleasures by playing a rigged game.

Both Henry and June have told me, in confidence, of the great sex they enjoy in the aftermath of their games, in far more detail than I would expect to hear spoken aloud in a public place. She gushes and he throbs and they writhe and shiver and spew. They are attractive enough, I suppose, but I don’t need the kind of details they provided to get the picture.

The weird, scary part of their games, the very real danger they provoke in playing arises because they also seem to enjoy feeling twinges of jealousy. Not content to experience the thrills of being single again, they seem to crave the angry hunger of competition. He gets mad when he sees her flirting. She gets angry when she sees him dancing with some stray lady. It gets them off but it makes me nervous.

One night, I had to actually get involved when one of the fellows June led on took exception to her change of heart. He’d bought her a drink, danced with her, enchanted her with his witty repartee. For a while, I began to wonder if Henry and June weren’t about to become swingers, so seriously did June take his propositions. Henry showed up and June turned the other guy off, like a switch had been thrown. He was confused, frustrated, more than a little drunk and he didn’t let the new fellow move in unopposed. Angry words became shoves and I had to intervene, although I couldn’t help but feel the poor sap was justified in his irritation. Sure, he had a responsibility to respect the lady and her fickle wishes. But, knowing the whole story, I knew he had been used and it was rather a shabby trick. Henry and June didn’t see it that way; they went on home and fucked like bunnies, twisted perverted thoughtless bunnies.

Then one night, they met their match. June sat down at the bar and was quickly enamored of a tall, dark, sophisticated and handsome man. She worked those breasts and bright eyes to charm him. Henry came in and with hardly a glance at June’s new conquest, he paired up with a stunning blonde who seemed magnetically drawn to his every word. Everyone danced and flirted and drank and teased and petted. I suspect a kiss or two was exchanged in the dark, although I never actually saw anything. Things were getting hot quickly and I could only wonder how this would play out.

All of a sudden, jealous anger took hold of either Henry or June or both. They stared and frowned and snorted, in turns, getting aggressive with their new friends to prove how little they cared, I guess. Then Henry grabbed June by the arm and nearly dragged her away. I assume they went back to their pad and played hot flesh games. But here’s the kicker. After Henry and June rushed off, the cool guy and the beautiful blonde hooked up. They seemed deep into each other, exchanging whispers and familiar touches, all too quickly to believe. They left together, ten minutes later.

Crazy enough, but two weeks later, Henry and June showed up at the bar, ready to role play single. Then Dick and Liz showed up. Henry and Liz rekindled their affair as did Dick and June. I thought maybe swinging had ensnared them and a bit of wife swapping was on the menu. But, just as before, jealousy erupted and Henry dragged June away. Dick and Liz fell into each others arms with an inappropriately public display of affection. When they finished their drinks, they ran off to sex land.

Two married couples pretending to be single together to drive their marriages to new levels of arousal. Twice a month, like clockwork. I’m astounded, flabbergasted. I don’t even know what to say.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, reading, short stories, swinging, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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