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ten o'clock in the morning. Miriam suggested she come over for mid-morning coffee. After the
nettlesome dreams, Mavis was almost elated to receive an invitation to do something-get out of the
lonely house. Gone from her mind was the dream of Connie and Miriam watching her being diddled by
their husbands.
"You woke me and I'm glad, Miriam!" Mavis laughed shakily. "Just give me about half an hour for a
quick shower and time to throw on some clothes!"
After showering and briskly drying her opulent body, Mavis quickly selected a snowy mini-bra and
matching bikini panties. She hummed softly as she shimmied her firm fanny into the briefs. Leaning
forward slightly, she adjusted the half-cups over the proud prominence of her cone-shaped boobies.
"Aaaaaaahthh," she sighed with pleasure as the cool laciness snuggled against her smooth flesh that was
still tingling from the shower and brisk toweling.
She slipped into a light linen blouse that buttoned up the front. With a faint smile of satisfaction she
inspected her reflection. The blouse displayed the deep cleft between her breasts in a low-cut vee. Then
she stepped into a miniskirt and zipped it up the back. The hem struck her at mid-thigh, showing lots of
creamy leg.
Before slipping through the gate of the high, chain-link fence, Mavis paused to peer at the lofty, rugged
Wasatch Mountains that ringed the Utah capital to the east. They were mysterious, foreboding and
beautiful. Then she hurried on to the Carrs' home. The faraway reverberation of chimes had barely died
away and Miriam opened the back door.
"Come in, neighbor," Miriam smiled warmly. "Connie will be along pretty soon. We had a kind of wild
little party last night and she has a slight hangover."
Mavis sat down at the kitchen table, aware of a tight, nervous feeling, a fluttering tension in her womb.
Had she been right? Had the Quentins and the Carts had a little swap party last night? Would she and
Phil have been invited if Phil hadn't been in Wyoming on an insurance case? The thought was naughtily
exciting and frightening at the same time. Phil, on the telephone, had given her no clue how he would
have reacted under such circumstances.
She didn't protest as Miriam laced their coffee with brandy and took a chair opposite her. "Have you
thought about our conversation yesterday afternoon, Mavis?"
A tightness in her chest made breathing a little difficult and the tips of her breasts felt icy. "A little," she
said, voice slightly choked. "Phil called last night and ..." she paused to sip the brandy and coffee ... "I
mentioned it to him."
"Well?"
"He didn't say much," Mavis hedged, not wanting to meet Miriam's excited, glinting eyes. "I don't know,"
she muttered. "Oh, Miriam, I'm not sure it's right-swapping, letting some other woman's husband do it to
you ..." Words failed.
"Crap!" Miriam laughed brightly. "He isn't just doing it to you, you're getting your jollies from him! Like I
said, it adds spice to life and enriches your own marriage. It makes husband and wife appreciate each
other that much more!"
Mavis wasn't convinced; her mind was still assailed by doubt. Had Miriam had Willie Quentin in bed
with her last night while her own husband was diddling Connie? Maybe, as she had speculated last night,
they had swapped and fucked right in the den!
She gulped at her coffee and brandy. She was dismayed at the sudden torrid sensation centered in the
pit of her tummy. Miriam's hand was on her left wrist. THAT hand had been in her tormented groove
yesterday afternoon and it had produced a heavenly sensation. She had never had another woman's
hand on her most intimate place before in her life. It had been a strange and exciting and forbidden
pleasure! She wondered if she would submit to it again, if Miriam made a pass. She pressed her thighs
together. She wasn't sure, but she sensed she would let Miriam masturbate her, if she made the gesture!
A sudden surge of shame failed to stem the rising tide of need and passion.
"You may have some doubts right now, honey," Miriam said, and Mavis detected a tone of nebulous
threat behind the bright, lively voice, "but you'll see things my way-and we'll all have a wonderful
swinging life. What's better, anyway, than one well-hung hubby, than two or three or four?"
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