My ex-boyfriend, Jerry had been away for two weeks, working out of town and expecting him at home around 8:00, O’Clock on Friday night. I was excited like hell and all I thought was getting him into bed when he came home.

The phone played at 4:30 p.m. and it was Jerry. He told me he was sorry, but he was supposed to work on the weekend and he wouldn’t come home until Monday. “What should I do, I really miss you,” I said. Jerry joked: “I’m sorry, but you can always go to town and fuck if you like it,” I was shocked to say it and asked him if it was serious. He said he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t mind doing the same. He finally said: “Go, enjoy, see you on Monday.”

“Ohh, John, it was beautiful. So, how’s your day? Do you still have a bad day? I’m playing.

“I’m having a wonderful day,” whispers gently, a soft breath that colors your voice.

“Wait until you see what kind of night you have!” I’ll give myself a little, kissing again.

“Oh oh,” smile in response.

“Oh, my God!” I sigh. “I forgot. I brought home some work I need to read before tomorrow. Because I don’t clean this dinner stuff and start working. You could relax, read the paper, take a shower or something. Sorry, love, it’s just a few hours of reading. I’ll make you forgive later if you’re patient.” Breathe in, but smile when you pick up the nasty spark in my eyes. “Nice is not over yet,” think about yourself.

Linda and I didn’t see the time for the party. We were already there, so we had a good idea what to expect. They held a dance every other week, and many of the couples would get a room at the motel for a bit of playing time after the dance. The last time we went, we were invited to a room, but this time we would have our room.

“This guy and his wife love the key parties,” Emily said. “The boys throw the keys in a pile and the women pull out a set and go home with the guy who belongs to the keys. "

“What? They don’t really do that, do they? I was curious, stimulated, really. I read and dreamed of these things, but I never thought they were true. I thought people were just telling stories; desirable thought, I would say. My wife, just 28 years old, made me meet one of these “key” people. Apparently, when I talked about these things with Emily, I made an impression, and because Emily has a sexy pussy, I guess she herself was blinded by thoughts, especially, knowing that I could give her approval to fuck other men.

Our car was in the garage for repair and did not have a ’loaner’ reserve, so my wife, Angel, (which is a beautiful, petite 26 years) and I had to travel in town on the commuter train. We complain that the train is full enough and must stand. We didn’t know how well we were where, at the next station there were dozens of extra people and where we packed as sardines.