Our 6-Level Orgy: Leave Early?

(Note to readers: Welcome back to the now-and-then orgy that develops gradually. As 'Conchita' notes, what she was going to write was dealt with by Fiona and Larry [in "Our 6-Level Orgy: About Jealousy"], so she uses her soapbox to describe what she learned from three couples who don't stay for all of the festivities. Enjoy!)

***

I should know better, by now. With so many things written about our orgy, by those of us who participate in it, the writing has basically become a cottage industry. Jack and Sally are constantly trying to find more content. Recently, I made the casual observation that we all seem to have rock-solid marriages, despite the fact that we have sex with people other than our spouses. Sally jumped on this immediately and said, "You should write about that, Conchita!"

Except my name isn't 'Conchita,' and her name isn't 'Sally.' We're very open with each other, when a couple dozen of us gather for our frisky fun--but we try to hide our identities from the world in general, when we write about this. I guess that this has worked, so far, because the Adultery Police haven't smashed down my door and hauled away my husband and me.

And we definitely adulterize. I bang other men, right out there in Sally & Jack's big living room, shamelessly, not caring who else can see. My husband sneaks off to a guest room with some other man's wife, so nobody else can see.

Which is 'worse?'

You can ponder that while I address some non-salacious matters.

My own experience isn't very dramatic. I show up here with Hugh (not his real name, and I hope you get the idea now), and we mingle and have sex with other people, and then we go home together and proceed with our lives (and have sex as a married couple). Besides, if the idea was to find out why sleep-around marriages stay together, this would have to bring in the experience of several couples.

The thing is, it took me a while to write something. Before I could finish, Larry and Fiona posted an item about how they deal with jealousy. That pretty well addressed the major points in what I was planning to write. This can be a little confusing, I guess, because some people have written about things that started before, and ended after, things that other people wrote about. So our posts can't exactly be read in chronological order. This can seem vague and messy, like life itself.

Anyway, it's appropriate that I learned about what they wrote, during sex.

Some people get along very well, physically. Whenever Larry is at the orgy, I really enjoy welcoming him.

"H-how, how've you been?" he asked, bearing down on me in missionary.

"Okay," I yipped. It felt so nice, the way his shaft matched up with my vaginal walls. "Having, trouble, writing something for Sally."

"What, about?" Ooooh, he can long-stroke me without flipping loose! The glans pushed back the labia on the outstroke, but then slid back inside.

"Couples stay, staying, together," I huffed. "Not being jealous." He's not the longest or thickest guy there, he's just an excellent fit for me.

He laughed during a wheeze. "Beat you to it!" He was flat on top of me, his skin rubbing my clit hood when he was fully inserted. "Fiona 'n' I jus' wrote that!"

"Great!" I said. No longer obligated, I was now happy for two reasons.

I always climax with Larry's sausage in my hotbox, not needing direct contact with my clitoris. In a dance move that you'll never see in polite society, I rapidly wrapped my legs around his. He started to spasm, and sweated bullets. I howled, while he grunted. We may be the loudest bangers in the bunch.

You don't often see much written about this kind of compatibility. I think that, for many people, it doesn't matter a great deal, they do fine with a wide variety of tabs or slots. To me, though, having this dynamite fuck available once in a while is a nice addition to my quality of life. I'm grateful to Larry, and to his wife Fiona, and to Hugh, to allow me this naughty indulgence.

Anyway, as usual we lingered in our shared orgasm, then gradually calmed and regained the ability to breathe normally, then smiled and kissed and cuddled. Then his shlong departed from my quim, with an amusing wet noise. Larry, stoked by vasodilating chemicals, would later be welcomed by other women. I, afloat on pleasure chemicals, ambled to the bar, and made myself a cup of tea. There, I chatted with friends who were between bangings, while we watched other friends who were hyping their own pleasure chemicals.

I was a bit smug about shedding my writing responsibility. I didn't mention this at the time, but I saw someone to whom I could crow. Jack was milling around alone, in the vast open space of his living room, in his self-appointed role of making sure every sex act was fully consensual.

I strolled up to him, grinned as I stroked his chest, and said, "Larry tells me that he's already written what Sally asked me to write. So now I'm free!"

He grinned down at me. (The big galoot is about a head taller.) "Then you can take on a different assignment. I'd like to see something about the people who leave here early, and why they do that."

I scowled, even as I got turned on by his scent. "How are you going to make that worth my while?"

He did that by giving me a long, luscious session of cunnilingus.

That sounds more coercive than it iwas. He would have gladly eaten me out anyway, and I don't mind writing something about the orgy. It's interesting, what we do here. Especially the way it's set up, so people can play around for a while, and then leave before they could do something they might regret.

During the next few get-togethers, I conducted short interviews. I had to pin people down and ask them to talk, sometimes during break time.

Yes, there are breaks in the action. They're scheduled by Sally and Jack. I'm not going to sacrifice my 'illicit' sex time by using any of it to ask questions, and tap a keyboard. Nor would my interview subjects give up the chance to, say, play with my naked body, solely to describe their attitude towards, say, playing with my naked body (or somebody else's naked body). So it was during breaks that I buttonholed people (sometimes while we were unbuttoning). The breaks during the orgy relate to how the event progresses gradually towards full-on sex. Also, to be honest, the breaks make it easier on us, because most of us are middle-aged, and some of us need to pace ourselves.

As you may have read from other people here, the orgy advances in levels, and the breaks allow us to transition from one level to the next. First, we chat. Then, we add making out, with some dancing. In level three we strip down to underwear, for more out-making. (If that wasn't a term before, I hereby declare that it is.) In four, we go nude, but mostly just get handsy. In level five, oral sex is allowed. Six can include genital-to-genital sex, plus all of the above. (And anal, though most of us don't do that in the orgy.)

While I was starting to write this, Hugh asked that I include his description of me. His exact words: 'She's a raven-haired Latin beauty, with huge dark eyes that could steal any man's soul.' That's very sweet, and I should probably just leave it at that. But I won't. The other people who write here have been honest about themselves. I should do no less. I'm short, and the passage of time has made me pudgy--but hasn't added any bulk to my bosom, which barely protrudes at all from my chest.

My parents are from Puerto Rico. As I was growing up, they insisted on us speaking both English and Spanish at home. No, not just that, perfect English and perfect Spanish. My sibs and I worried that we'd have to walk around quoting Cervantes and Austen. It was never quite that extreme, but it always seemed possible.

I'll say this much about Hugh, because he's been willing to disclose it before: He's a lawyer. El es un abogado. Okay, I'll stop now. (He asked that I not describe him physically. He promised he'd do that himself, when he writes something here. If he ever does.)

I admit to being a good dancer, Latin and otherwise. And, oh yeah, I'm a woman, so on any given orgy night, I get more requests for sex than I'm willing to accept. Two penis-in-vagina sessions are just fine. Three? Sometimes. Four? I tried that once, and won't again. So many of these guys use boner pills (excuse me, 'vasodilation chemicals'), and want to pound away all night. Lube can only do so much. I don't enjoy it when my pussy feels like sandpaper.

We're all very close friends, but not everyone wants to get really naughty outside marriage. The breaks between levels allow people to decide if they want to keep going, or leave. I know from experience that an early departure can lead to wild sex that night at home.

What I have are interviews with Gail and Mitch, Bennett and Lindsey, and Margo and George. I wasn't able to pin down Charlotte and Mohan, but Sally and Jack have written a long piece about them, in a swinging/swapping context.

My talks were interesting, but the last one led to some repercussions.

Therefore, I'll make you wait for the last interview, with George and Margo. And what followed. Yes, I'm a shameless tease.

I caught up with Mitch and Gail early one night, in Level One, because I didn't know how long they'd stay. This level is just a gabfest, so none of us missed out on sexy-time.

I asked, "Are you going home early?"

"Yep," said Mitch with a smile.

"You can't have him tonight," added Gail, bubbly as always.

I thought I already knew what they'd tell me, because of all the time we'd been frolicking here, but I went through the interrogation process anyway.

"Sometimes you stay through Level Six, and, shall we say, you participate fully. Why not tonight?"

"Responsibility," said Gail with a lilt and a smile.

"With three kids," said Mitch, "what we can do on any night out depends on who we can get as a sitter. Tonight we have somebody who can't be out too late. So we'll just slap-and-tickle here." He lifted an eyebrow at me. Damn, Mitchie is so cute. One of those rare Asian men who can grow a mustache and beard with full coverage.

"Oh, stop teasing, Mitch!" said Gail with a laugh. "If she follows us home tonight, it's your fault!"

I sighed. "I'll just have to find some other shoulder to cry on." Then, with a grin of my own, "If you know what I mean, by 'shoulder' and 'cry.'"

That got an even bigger laugh from Gail, with lots of jiggling. Unlike Amy, Gail isn't sensitive about her weight, despite fleshiness in her arms and neck.

Later, I did make out with Mitch for a while. It was one of many pleasant interactions for me that night, including a 'cry' on Larry's 'shoulder.'

I hereby digress. Banging with Larry, and getting that great whoop-te-do, makes me more giving or adventurous afterward. That night, I then got spit-roasted on all fours, blowing Louie while Dan fucked me. I don't care much for doggystyle, but it was okay, and it made big fun for my two friends.

It was during a different soiree--as a kid, I never had to speak perfect French--when I was able to chat with Lindsey and Bennett. They always stay through Level Four, and then leave. The time when they arrive, however, sometimes varies. Level One was nearly finished when they turned up, so my interview carried over into the break.

I teased them a little. "Do you enjoy being fashionably late?"

Lindsey took this in good spirit. "I guess, since we can't be fashionable. We don't have tattoos or body jewelry, so when we're nude, there's just skin."

Bennett, not so much. "We take dinner reservations when they're available," he rumbled in his basso profundo (ditto Italian). "If there's a restaurant we especially want to patronize, we set a higher priority on that than on our arrival time here."

I hadn't known this, so I followed up. "So, this is a big night out for you? Fine dining, and all that?"

This mollified Bennett a bit. "We enjoy the good life, when we can. Tonight we were able to sample a new Japanese place I've been meaning to try."

"Don't get him started, or he'll give you an hour-long review," said Lindsey.

"I'd like to know all about it," I said, giving Bennett my brightest smile. "Could you email me the specifics?"

"Gladly," he said, getting as close to a smile as he ever did.

"But once you're here," I said, trying to bring in both of them, "the good life only goes so far?"

"We're so glad to have this fun with you," said Lindsey, sounding defensive, "but we're really not comfortable, um, copulating, with other people. We did that when we were younger, but it caused so many problems." She looked at her husband. "We could never be sure we were satisfied with each other. And it led to the end of friendships we had valued."

"We definitely want all of you to stay our friends," said Bennett. "And we like that we can do more here than we can in nudist gatherings. Which tend to be almost puritanical, in terms of body contact."

"And there's another thing," said Lindsey, pulling up the cuffs of her slacks. "See? Cankles."

I frowned, looking there. "If you say so." Lindsey is lean and sleek. I envy her for that, and I'm not alone here.

"My cycle is often erratic," she said. "Jack and Sally try to schedule this so women can have fun as often as possible, but that works mostly for twenty-eight-day ladies." She chortled. "By leaving every time before oral or genital sex, I know that I'll only disappoint the guys the same way every time."

I looked at Bennett. "And are you, um, disappointed by that?"

He looked at his wife. "We've found ways to maximize our fun here. After much discussion, and some practice on a new form of arousal, Lindsey and I have found that breast sex, here, does not cause stress in our marriage."

This has been written by others in this group. Bennett orgasms between the breasts of our amply-endowed women, and Lindsey orgasms from nipple fondling and licking by men who have figured out how to make that happen for her.

Breast sex is a factor in this account of mine. Yes, even with my breasts.

On to yet another orgy.

One night, in the break between Levels Two and Three, I asked George and Margo, who never stay after Level Four, about what happens when they get home. They stalled a little, partly because we were doffing our outerwear and putting it on hangers. Also, they're a little shy.

Quietly I said to Margo, "Remember, we're anonymous here."

"I know," she said. With a glance at George, she went on, "We do get very turned on here. It's really great. When we get home it can be quite, um, intense."

George said, "Not just at home."

"Oh?" I said, looking at him, then at her. Margo turned away.

George asked her, "Can I mention this?"

Margo sighed, then looked at him. "If you must."

He showed me a little smile. "Last month, on the way home, she couldn't sit still in the car. I asked if something bothered her. She said that while I'd had, um, an orgasm between Steffi's breasts, she, I mean Margo, had held back. She'd embraced men, but didn't let them finger her. So, while I was driving, I, um, did that for her."

I looked at Margo, but said nothing.

"Yes," she said. "He, uh, gave me what I needed."

I asked, "And when you got home?"

George's brows lifted. "She wore me out!"

Margo again turned away, but not before I saw her smile.

"What do you expect for tonight?" I pressed, starting to enjoy my interviewer role. "Here, and at home?"

George glanced at Margo, then looked directly at me. "Chita, you know how fond I am of, um, breast sex. I hope that one of the ladies will do that for me. And, I don't intend to be greedy. The rules here would allow me to give some pleasure in Level Four. Of the, um, manual variety."

I turned to Margo. "And you?"

She licked her lips, trembling. Very quietly, she said, "We'll see."

Even though George and Margo don't like to talk about sex, I can tell that they have something in common with the rest of us: Strong libidos. We all want sex. We enjoy it. We're fond of our sex partners. A good sex life is important to our well-being. If you're reading this in order to learn about our 'lifestyle,' this may be an important takeaway for you: A strong libido may be necessary, for you to do what we do. Also, maybe, a desire on your part, to help your partners have a good time.

Is sex something that you can take or leave? If so, does that work for you? Well and good. You probably wouldn't gain anything from swapping or group sex.

On to Level Three. This is when I start ramping up for the evening, and I'm not alone. I danced for a while with Dan, both hot and flirty, and grinding close. I made out pretty hard with Bob. While that was going on, I didn't think much about my interview with Margo and George.

Then there was the break between Levels Three and Four. When everyone who doesn't leave, strips the rest of the way, to naked (or, at least, a full presentation of genitals, and women's breasts).

I stowed my bra and underwear in a mesh bag on my hanger. To my surprise, George stepped up to me, still in his briefs. "Chita," he murmured, "may I be on your dance card?"

"Um... yes, certainly!"

He smiled. "Would you like to do the honors?"

People generally undress themselves, but George is aware that I'm one of the women who really enjoys the sight of his equipment, which he always shaves.

I got a bit testy. "Don't lead me on, George. You're leaving after Level Four, right?"

"Yes. But I'd like to please you, until then. If I can."

I'm not stupid. This was clearly connected to the interview. And, I supposed, with Margo's evasive We'll see. But I didn't care about ulterior motives. I was happy to take whatever jollies with George that I could get.

"Well then," I said with a grin, "I'm honored, to honor."

I knelt on the carpet, putting me at eye-level with his bifurcation. I set my hands on his hips, and dragged down the plain white cotton.

His tool thickened, and rose towards my face. This revealed his sleek sac.

I almost drooled. I straightened up, before I could break any rules. He stepped out of his shorts, and stowed them.

George looked past me, for an instant, then put a hand on my elbow. "Over here," he said, turning me in the direction opposite of where he'd looked.

He escorted me to a sofa on the other side of the room.

George is big and handsome, with thick curly hair and broad shoulders. Margo has a face and body that somehow haven't caught on that she's well over forty. It's not just that they're turned on by us and have wild sex at home. We're turned on by them, and probably fantasize about them while we're fucking whoever stayed.

This, however, was the most intimate contact I'd ever had with George. My heart was pounding, just from the touch of his hand on my elbow.

He arranged us so that I was lying on the inner part of the sofa. As he lay on his side on the outer part, I looked across the room before his body completely blocked my view.

I have 20-20 vision. It showed me a sofa on the far side, where nude Margo was getting into a whole-body embrace with nude Aaron, the youngest man in our group.

George asked, "Are you able to have nipple orgasms?"

My 20-20 eyes bugged out, and saw nothing but George's face.

I was stunned! This man howls in delight, when our bustiest ladies squeeze his phallus with their massive breasts--yet he offered to pleasure my tiny titties!

"Um, uh, YES! I can! I do!"

His smile seemed more naughty than nice. I didn't care.

He said, "Please tell me what to do."

I wasn't even lying. Fate has, indeed, granted me The Flat-Chested Woman's Consolation Prize. I can climax from careful, diligent caresses and kisses on and around my nipples and areolas. This isn't available to most of the Sizeable Spheroid Sisterhood. Lindsey, obviously, has also received The Prize, though her boobs probably count as middling.

"Well," I said from a very dry throat, "You could start by squeezing at the bottoms, just above the ribs."

He did that.

"And kiss me," I said, regretting that this sounded like a pathetic whimper.

He complied. When I parted my lips, he caught on at once, and our tongues entwined.

I squirmed along him. The rubbing of my mons on his hairless dork wasn't intentional, but it thrilled me. I wanted more, but I made myself draw back, and said, "N-now, slow circles around the areolas. W-with fingertips."

"Like this?"

"Oh yeahhhh." I was practically in Nirvana already. My spine and shoulders shivered, deliciously.

"Now-w, kiss the nipples. Dry."

On his own, he worked out that he should finger one nip while kissing the other.

He said, "They're growing," with what sounded like a smile. I couldn't see past the curly hair.

"Uh huh!" I gulped. "Suck 'em!"

He did. At least, he started. From that moment, I couldn't be exactly sure what was happening, except that I was in a tsunami of oxytocin. I may have orgasmed twice. My heart pounded, my legs twitched. My grip on his shoulder blades may have been the only thing that anchored me in this universe.

I heard him say, "Are you all right?"

I also heard, distantly, Margo's voice, in a sort of yelp.

"Yes, George," I said with a giggle. "I am most definitely all right."

In a moment, I was able to focus those eagle eyes of mine on the large digital timer above the bar. I saw that there weren't very many minutes left in Level Four.

I told George, "You should go have your fun."

"I could do more for you." His fingers brushed my vulva.

"You've done plenty," I said, half-wheezing. Then, with a half-smile, "And for Margo, too."

His brows lifted.

"I saw what she was doing with Aaron. And I heard her. If she needed to think that you'd keep that nosy interviewer from knowing what she was doing, that's fine. Thanks to you, she was able to have fun." My smile gained its other half. "So you can drive home with both hands on the wheel."

He looked worried. "So you won't, um, let her know--"

"What I know? Not tonight. But I might write about it, someday." I leaned up and kissed those soft, inviting lips. "You're a very good husband, George."

"And you're a wonderful, um--"

"George, Sally is about to mug you. I'm going to get up, so you can fuck her tits. I'll make sure not to look at Margo and Aaron."

As I got up from the sofa, I winked at Sally, whose spheroids were ready.

At the end of Level Four, George and Margo took their leave. I was totally chill, not even waving.

In Level Five, I sixty-nined with Bob, and also my husband, giving Hugh a sendoff to what would be his 'secret' tryst with Amy. In Level Six, I entertained three gentleman callers. And did they ever entertain me! None of them was George, but Larry, Jack, and Louie were just fine, thanks.

And my dear, sweet Hugh won me back the next morning.

Not bad, for a middle-aged flattie.

That said, there's lots of fun for me with other men. They're all good pussy-eaters. They know that they have to be, because they want to make the ladies feel good. When we feel good in that particular way, we gladly welcome tabs into our slots.