Exhibitionist to Swinger: Chapter 06
Poppy asked to stay the following weekend; we already had the next phase of our “Ben project” and Renée cheerfully agreed. We had two adjacent spare bedrooms, but Renée’s filthy pen pal could not leave his designated address after 7pm or before 7am.
My girlfriend received a message on Thursday from her phone contact of “Ben”
Hi Renée. This is Ben. Had to wait to get to London and only just got to my Mum’s house. Thank you for the phone. It’s so kind of you.
She replied as she shovelled rice into her mouth: Hello Trouble. Are you free on Sunday?
The app pinged almost immediately with his response: Yes.
Good. We’ll pick you up at 7:05am. You’ll be home by 6:45pm. Be at the end of your road, outside the betting shop and the Chinese takeaway, and look for a dark blue Lexus. Tom’ll be waiting.
OK. Thanks. Can’t wait.
Renée chuckled. You MUST wait. Or I will be displeased.
Poppy arrived at our home on Friday before my lover returned from the office. It felt weird as she disrobed, sliding her hands down me as I cooked, begging to take my cock in her mouth. And it felt disloyal to do this without my girlfriend, and she understood, even if she didn’t appreciate my self-control. “I love Lucille and it’s a lovely house, but it is so boring in Old Windsor,” she said as she toyed with her hair in one hand and played with her phone in the other. “You know I had more sex last weekend than the rest of the year put together. Everyone at work is fifty or over. There’s nothing but television and computer games and reading. I might as well be a fucking nun.” She continued her diatribe for another five minutes before I swapped her coffee for a glass of wine and moved the conversation onto other subjects.
Renée was adamant that Friday and Saturday would be “sex-free” but we played Strip Poker, Twister, and Cards Against Humanity on Friday, and the following day, we watched a very erotic, steamy film over a few drinks.
I woke early on Sunday, drove to the South London sink estate and parked opposite the bookmakers. There were two smashed windows on the vehicles beside the graffiti-stained bridge, and there was a distinct feel of hopelessness amongst the high-rise brutalist architecture.
Ben, dressed in grey jogging bottoms and a blue T-shirt, knocked on the car window and sat on the passenger seat. “You OK?” I asked.
“Yeah. Good to be out. Even on tag.” His voice radiated excitement and was exactly as I remembered him, albeit with slightly longer and more unruly hair. I pulled onto the road, using my vehicle’s satellite navigation to direct me home. He pointed out a couple of 1960s housing estates. “Ali used to live t’ere. He nicked the car. And Elle was down that road. She was Ali’s girl.”
I kept the conversation light, letting Ben fill the silence with chatter. He was nervous, and he clearly felt he had to say something, and gulped when I pulled into Renée’s plush detached property. “Wow! You’re loaded,” he muttered.
“Yeah, Renée has some money,” I said. “She works hard for it.” He hesitated as I walked up to the front of our home, and he looked behind him, taking in the street. “You OK?”
Trance-like, he stumbled up the three steps, and I unlocked the door. “Take your shoes off. Then, first on the right.”
“What?”
I pointed along our hallway. “That door. Milk or sugar with your coffee?”
“Oh, yeah, both, please.”
Ben tentatively moved towards his destiny, hands shaking at his sides as he took in the polished hardwood floors, the abstract art lining the walls, and the fresh floral scents, as his fingers closed on the handle of the door to our lounge. Poppy descended the stairs in nothing but an unbuttoned silk robe, her nipples and shaven mons exhibited through the gap in the fabric. She grinned at his stunned expression. “Morning, convict. I’m Poppy and I’ll help Renée today. Did you sleep well?”
“Oh yeah, fuck.”
Her hands rested on his bottom as she guided him into the lounge. Ben froze in the doorway, stunned. My girlfriend lounged on the leather sofa, legs spread wide, naked except for a silver necklace and an ankle chain. Her manicured fingers trailed lazily between her thighs as she watched him. “Right on time,” she purred. “Poppy, be a darling and help our guest undress. I can’t blow him if he’s wearing clothes.”
The blonde nymph giggled, reaching for Ben, and he shivered as her soft hands slid under his shirt, her breath warm against his neck. “You’re shaking,” she murmured, nipping his earlobe. “Don’t worry. Renée doesn’t bite unless you beg.” The top landed on the floor, revealing a slender leanness earned through prison workouts. Poppy’s fingers hooked into his joggers, yanking them down his thighs. He gasped, his hard cock springing free and shuddering under their scrutiny.
Naked except for white sports socks, Renée’s prison pen pal stood before her as she’d never seen him before. Unkempt and untamed brown hair, piercing eyes, and a lean, smooth physique. Shorter than me, and no taller than Poppy or Renée, he blinked, amazed at the sight before him. But his prick, easily an inch longer and slightly thicker than mine, rose from shaved, glabrous pubic skin.
“Nice,” Poppy admired. “I’m very jealous!” She guided him to a blue leather armchair, as my partner slowly padded across the room, maintaining eye contact with the nineteen-year-old. His prick twitched as she advanced on him.
“Sit back, spread your legs and enjoy. And just release. She wants to suck you and taste you.”
Ben obeyed instantly, his fingers digging into the armrests as Renée knelt between his thighs, her lips parting inches from his cock. Her tongue flicked out, tracing the underside of his shaft in one slow, deliberate stroke, and I entered the room as my girlfriend fellated another man as part of our swinging adventure for the first time. I placed a coffee and a croissant on the table beside our guest, watching as his body twitched involuntarily.
Poppy stood behind the chair, her hands closed on his shoulders as my girlfriend’s mouth descended onto Ben’s cock; the first, wet slide of lips sealing around him drawing a choked gasp from his throat. His fingers gripped the leather as Renée swallowed him whole, her practiced tongue swirling in patterns that had him whimpering and squealing in seconds.
Poppy leaned over him, whispering filth in his ear; things my sweetheart must have coached her to say from his letters. Perhaps how good he tasted or how sexy he looked. Or maybe how much he deserved it. Her hands slid over his chest.
“Oh, fuck! I’m gonna …”
My girlfriend’s mouth took longer, quicker strokes, bobbing over his stout dick as he gasped, fighting and intensifying his release. “She wants it. Give it to her. Let go.” Poppy’s fingers slid over his chest and nipples as Renée’s lips tightened around his sensitive tip.
Ben shuddered violently, bucking up into my partner’s mouth with a desperate squeal. His hips jerked erratically as she swallowed every pulse, her throat milking each drop of his cum until he slumped back in the armchair, spent and trembling. Poppy giggled, kissing his forehead. “Good boy,” she murmured, running a finger down his chest.
“That was … incredible,” he muttered.
Renée licked her lips as he took deep breaths, luxuriating in the aftershocks and sensations, as my lover ran her tongue underneath his foreskin, cleaning his prick of semen. When she stood up, she giggled. “I’d say have your coffee and your breakfast. But you’re hard again. And Poppy is very good at sorting that sort of problem out. Plus, she is very needy.”
Ben’s eyes widened, and he gulped as the playful blonde straddled him, her bare cunt inches above his semi-hard cock. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, his hands hovering over her waist. “She likes to be grabbed rough. Don’t be gentle. Treat her like the owned slut she is.” His fingers gripped Poppy’s hips as she sank onto him with a hoarse moan.
Renée settled beside me on the sofa, resting her head on my shoulder while we watched. “You OK?” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. I nodded, and felt I needed to show it, so I placed my hand on her upper thigh. But this was uncharted territory, and we witnessed another man fuck my lover’s best friend in our living room.
Ben’s hands gripped Poppy’s waist as she rode him, her breasts bouncing with every movement. Her moans and groans soared. Louder and desperate; half-performed, half-genuine, but it didn’t matter. The effect was the same. “She loves to be the centre of attention,” Renée murmured. “Always has. Probably always will.”
Poppy’s fingers twisted in her own hair, arching her back as she rolled her hips, grinding against him, stealing his virginity. “Squeeze her,” my partner suggested, and his grip dug into her flesh, leaving redness.
“OK?” he asked.
She whimpered. “Yeah, just like that!”
“And you can touch her,” Renée added. “Pinch her nipples, grope her buttocks. Use her. She likes it.”
Ben hesitated, glancing at us, but Poppy grabbed his wrists and pressed his palms against her breasts. “Do it,” she gasped, arching into his touch. His fingers closed around her nipples, twisting experimentally. The bucking nymph cried out, her thighs clamping over his hips as she rode him faster. “Harder. Fuck, just like that!”
Renée’s nails dug into my thigh as she watched, her breathing shallow. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the lust seeping from her pores. Ben’s hand slapped Poppy’s ass, leaving a red handprint. She shrieked, her body convulsing as she came, her cunt pulsing around him. “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. Don’t stop!”
She rode him harder, her forearms resting on his shoulders. He panted. “Poppy. I’m …”
“Fill her up,” my girlfriend cried. Poppy leaned back as Ben’s cock twitched inside her. She threw her head backwards with a deep, guttural moan, and then locked eyes with Renée. “You got a pussy to clean,” she demanded, and Ben stared wide-eyed as my lover lay on the floor, watching as our guest lowered her cummy cunt over my girlfriend’s mouth.
“Drink up,” I said, gesturing to the coffee going cold.
Ben, startled and still coming down from his multiple climaxes, reached for the cup with shaky hands. Renée’s tongue lapped eagerly at Poppy’s swollen folds, fingers gripping her thighs as wet, obscene sounds filled the room. He stared at the spectacle, wide-eyed as my girlfriend sucked Ben’s creampie from his lover’s leaking cunt. “Jesus,” he muttered before draining half of his coffee in one gulp. Poppy moaned, hands tangled in my partner’s pale locks, grinding down as my girlfriend devoured the mess with shameless enthusiasm.
The freshly released jailbird finished his drink and ate the croissant before the pair of nude women took him for a tour of the house; I photographed him with his arms around the two hostesses, and he blushed when I sent it to Renée’s photo printer. “One to send to your cellmate to show that you really won the race!”
Poppy blew him in the shower, swallowing his cum, before we dressed and headed into London.
Renée had a couple of tasks, and she took her project to a gentleman’s outfitters, purchasing a proper suit, shirt, tie and shoes for the young man. “Suits make all women horny. It’s like lingerie. If you want to walk into an interview and own it, you need a decent suit.”
Ben fidgeted as she adjusted the knot on his patterned silk tie, his fingers brushing against the soft material. “I’ve never worn one,” he muttered.
“Not even when you were up in front of the beak?” Poppy asked tactlessly, causing the shop-owner to notice Ben’s tag on his ankle, but Renée’s platinum credit card covered the bill as he gave us a quizzical expression.
We ate at a sandwich shop, and Renée bought him some smarter leisure clothes before we returned to what Ben called “the mansion.” He’d relaxed considerably as we travelled around central London, and Poppy held his hand as we walked from tube stations to shops to the cafe.
The young jezebel, naked again, served drinks in the garden. “She’s insatiable,” Renée remarked, stroking the young woman’s bare buttocks as she served Ben, staring at her pert bosom. Poppy grinned, pressing herself closer to their day guest, her fingers teasing the hem of his clothes. “She wants you. You put her on heat.”
My girlfriend slapped Poppy’s bare cheeks. “Why don’t you show Ben your bedroom?” She suggested. “I think we missed it, and your double bed, off the tour. That was an oversight.”
“Yes!” Poppy giggled, slipping her hand into Ben’s grip and pulling him towards the house. “Bring your drink too!”
Renée and I watched as she led him upstairs, her hips swaying deliberately. “She’s shameless,” my lover murmured, her fingers intertwining with mine. “I love it.” She squeezed my hand. “You okay with this?” I nodded, but she noticed the hesitation. “Tell me.”
“I’m fine,” I promised. “It’s just surreal. I’m processing it.”
I saw something in her eyes akin to fear or worry, so I reached over and kissed her on the lips before dragging her onto the green carpet of the garden. We didn’t undress, and after I pushed her pale summer dress to her waist, I flicked her cunt with my tongue, drawing gasps of pleasure, before I discarded my shorts and underwear, positioning my prick at her wet slit.
Her legs wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her. Renée’s fingers dug into my shoulders, her breath hot against my ear. “Fuck me harder,” she demanded, her hips rising to meet mine. The distant sound of Poppy’s excited screams drifted from an open window above us as I drove into my girlfriend, the afternoon sun warming our half-naked, copulating bodies.
I didn’t last too long; I groaned, unable to resist, and spilled inside her with desperate, ragged breaths. She laughed between gasps, stroking my hair. “I love you,” she murmured.
“I love you too!”
Forty minutes later, the naked youngsters reappeared in the garden; Poppy said she’d been giving him “lessons” and I made more drinks before she could elaborate. We started with a game of Twister, but this descended into teasing and oral sex. In between, we chatted and conversed with Ben, and both of the girls took turns massaging our shoulders and bodies.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon in the sun, punctuated by the sound of a visitor around 4:45pm. Renée welcomed the pizza delivery guy into our garden through the side gate; the pizzas she’d ordered noted the required time and location, and she gave the startled teenager a cash tip.
“You’re naked,” Ben said as the man left.
“No need to test your eyes then,” Renée remarked. She passed him a plate as she opened the four large pizza boxes. “Help yourself.”
Conversation turned to gloomier matters. “How long are you with the tag?” Poppy asked.
“Ten weeks,” he said, almost morosely. “But it’s much better than jail. I have to sleep on the sofa, but I’ve got my name down for a flat. But it won’t be quick.” He gestured to the grandiose building. “Nothing as grand as this area. Or this house.”
Renée pouted. “We all start somewhere. I grew up on a council estate. My sister lives on one, and we don’t have a great relationship. It’s not where you begin; it is where you end up. And hard work and drive get you where you want to go. It will make your dreams a reality. Set some goals and just go for it.”
Ben chewed thoughtfully, his gaze flicking between Poppy’s bare breasts and the distant skyline. “I don’t have many qualifications. All A’s and B’s at GCSE and BBC at A Level. But nothing more. And I met my probation officer on Friday, and I have to be down at the job centre on Tuesday. I want part-time employment so I can do my accountancy exams. But I really need to have something in that field. And I know it’ll be hard getting that with a criminal record.”
Renée licked her lips. “Joyriding, Ben. You’ve not masterminded a financial fraud. You have no excuses.”
Ben flushed. “Yeah, but still a theft and driving offence. And I wasn’t even driving or there when Ali nicked the car. He turned up, and I piled in. And then he raced along the M4 and we were chased.” His eyes looked into the distance. “I shouldn’t have got in the car. I should have stayed put when he crashed into the hedge. But I didn’t. And we both ran. Only got a few metres away before a couple of coppers tackled me.”
Renée’s fingers traced patterns on Ben’s thigh, her smirk widening. “Didn’t your solicitor push for a suspended sentence? No prior convictions?”
“Ali has a big, long record. Plenty of court appearances. He got five and a half years. And the judge gave me twenty-seven months.”
Renée’s smile faded into a soft expression. She leaned forward, her bare breasts pressing against the edge of the table as she picked a slice of pizza. “OK, I was going to wait until later, but it seems right to do it now. Why do you think we went suit shopping?” She asked him.
“Because you said I’d need it.”
“You will. Because you’re articulate. Presentable. And dressed properly,” she gestured to the bags in the lounge, “you can look the part.” Her fingers drummed against her thigh. “My company has an accounts department. We take on young people and sponsor them through their qualifications. Now I can’t interfere in the hiring process, but they have multiple teams that manage Payroll, Company Accounts and Credit Control and more. But last financial year, we employed four untrained under-20-year-olds. We also have an offender employment scheme.” She paused for a moment. “So your interview is at 9:30am on Wednesday. I want you here by 7:30am and we’ll do some mock interview questions. I am also giving you a book to read about interview techniques. But,” she said, waving her finger around the garden. “What happens here stays a secret. At all times. You’ll be discreet. I’ll never be in a position of power over you in that role. So I don’t need to declare it to HR or anything. It would be different if you worked for one of my direct reports, but this is no conflict of interest. And if you get the job, you did it all by yourself with no help from me.”
Poppy waited for Renée to finish. “But if he gets it, we can celebrate, can’t we? Properly.”
My partner laughed at Poppy’s excited expression. “Yes. Of course.”
I saw him wipe his eyes. Much like me, a chance meeting with Renée had changed his life, and I took a deep breath. “If he gets the job,” I said to my girlfriend. “Then you’d better reward him properly.”
“With …” she muttered, raising an eyebrow.
My heart pounded as I calmly agreed to what my beautiful sweetheart desperately wanted. “Yes, with proper sex. If he gets offered the role, then you better fuck him.”
