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It was February 1976. Cindy and I were charging down I-75 escaping an Indianapolis winter for a week of warmth and distraction in Orlando. Two years earlier the government had chopped the speed limit from 70 MPH down to 55, the dreaded double nickel. We were working our Fuzzbuster and CB radio to avoid Smokey and shave as much time as we could off the trip. I was one of the otherwise law abiding citizens who were rebelling against the stupidity of that ridiculous speed limit. There were so many of us, that auto drivers outnumbered truckers on the trucker channel.

“Hey, ten-four good buddy, we got the front door for a while. Enjoy that rockin’ chair. Rainmaker out, southbound, and down.” I hung the CB microphone back on the dash of my five year old Dodge Demon, when the cheap speaker on the forty-channel Cobra crackled back at me.

“Breaker for the Rainmaker, Friendly Neighbor here.”

“Go ahead, Friendly Neighbor.”

“Where you headed?”

“We’re out of Circle City this morning, trying to get to Mickey town tomorrow. How about you?”

“We left the Twin Cities yesterday for a couple-a-days in Miami, then down to the Keys.”

A great thing about the CB culture was that there always was someone to talk to, even if keying the mike knocked fifty points off your IQ. Friendly Neighbor and I were running at about the same speed and had spent several hours in our own mini convoy taking turns running the riskier front door (the lead position) and the rockin’ chair (tucked safely in behind). From time to time someone would hook up with us for a while and with a third car, someone could ride the back porch, or last position in the convoy, watching for a Smokey (most state’s troupers wore the same kind of hat as Smokey the Bear) sneaking up from behind. We talked mile after mile about this and that and everything and nothing. About his farm south of Minneapolis, about me studying engineering in night school, about neither of us having kids yet, destinations in Florida, about the wives’ jobs, CB tech-talk, and of course sports. Here was a guy who I had never seen and had talked to for a few hours and I felt like I had known him for years.

Back in open country after shooting through Atlanta, Friendly Neighbor asked, “Rainmaker, the XYL is talking about food. How far are you planning to go tonight?”

In radio talk, any single woman regardless of age was a Young Lady (YL) and became an XYL when she married.

“We were planning to find a motel around Macon, but we’ve been making such good time that I think we’ll try for Valdosta. How about you?”

“Ten-four on that, Rainmaker. We need some go juice and a bio break and we can make Valdosta.”

“Roger on the ten-one-hundred. Let’s do a full pit stop and then roll south.”

I was using a Shell credit card and Friendly Neighbor fueled his burgundy GTO across the street at the Texaco, so our contact was limited to just a wave before we were rolling south again. I did not get a good look at his wife other than to see that she was blond, but he seemed a lot like me. We were both late twenties, about six feet tall, average weight. The biggest difference was that I had dark hair and he was blond like his wife. Back on the road, the chatter went full blast again. We were making such good time that we jointly elected to push on to Valdosta and find a place for the four of us to have dinner together.

We found a nice little place a few blocks off the expressway. Face to face, we finally got around to exchanging real names. “Hi, Friendly Neighbor. I’m Dave and this is my wife Cindy.”

“Pleased to meet you Dave and Cindy, we’re Swen and Olga.”

Olga was a tall and slender, probably five foot eight. She and Swen were already dressed for Florida. He was in Bermuda shorts and a golf shirt. She was in red sundress that contrasted wonderfully with her blond hair and green eyes. The dress showed the pleasant curve of her hips and the pointy outline of her nipples, just enough shape to leave no doubt that she was a woman. Cindy was quite a contrast to Olga. Cindy was a brunette and five foot one when she stretched. Her body was all curves and beautifully proportioned. She was closer to a Marilyn Monroe than a Twiggy.

In a just few minutes, we had settled in at a table with menus and a round of drinks. Over dinner, the XYLs finally got an opportunity to talk to each other and were taking full advantage of it, chatting quietly with each other about whatever wives talk about. Swen and I were doing the usual guy thing—talking too loudly about the relative merits of our favorite football teams. Away from the radios and talking like normal people, Swen asked me how I got my Rainmaker handle. Somehow it seemed that no one ever used real names on the radio.

“Well, you see, Cindy and I have a little outboard runabout. It seems as though every time I slide that boat into the water, the sky darkens and starts dumping rain. And how did you become the Friendly Neighbor?”

Now Swen’s voice dropped a few decibels. “I don’t usually tell that story until I know someone for a few years. But ya know, after talking with ya all day, I feel like I have known ya for years. Ya see it’s this way, Olga and I and a small group of our best pals like to get very friendly, if ya know what I mean.”

I was still pretty naive. Cindy had been my first and only lover, although I think I was her fourth. I replied, “Actually, I don’t know what you mean.”

Cindy jabbed my side and said, “You dope, he means that they swap.”

I nearly choked on my wine. “Is that what you were saying?”

“Ja, you bet.”

“Wow. I’ve heard of people doing that but I don’t think that…”

I was rudely interrupted by another jab in the side from my spouse. She said, “Olga and I have been talking about your parties. They sound like a lot of fun.”

“Oh, are they ever!” said Olga.

Swen looked across the table and quietly said, “I don’t know of a better way to unwind from a long, hard day on the road. Maybe you two would like to save half the cost of a motel room and join us for some long, hard fun, if ya get my drift?”

“I don’t know…” I started when Cindy’s elbow slammed into my side again.

“Dave, what do you mean? I know that the first place you go in Penthouse Letters is the section with swapping stories. I also know about that book you have hidden in the bathroom. You know, ‘The Couples on Venus Lane.’ I’ve read it too, it’s all about swapping and it turned me on as much as it does you. And you sure have been ogling Olga’s boobs.” She looked Swen straight in the eye and said, “We’d love to!”

I guess in my own naiveté I thought that Cindy would never consider swapping, even though secretly, or not so secretly as it turned out, it excited me. Her rapid acceptance told me that she was actually more adventurous than I was and just as excited about the possibility. It also reminded me of how turned on she was that night in college when we did the deed in the back seat of a friend’s car at the drive-in while he and his date were in the front seat watching the movie.

I took another drink of my wine and looked across the table. “Like I was saying, we’d love to. Let’s go get a room.”

I was nervous as Nixon in front of a TV camera as we drove down the street to the Holiday Inn. Cindy just sat with a huge grin and with her legs crossed at the knee, slightly rocking the calf of the upper leg. After what seemed like an hour, but had to really be about two minutes, we parked and checked-in. We carried our overnight bags into the room with two double beds.

As I locked the door and hooked the chain, I heard Cindy say, “Just how friendly are you?”

I turned just as Swen took Cindy in his arms.

“About this friendly.” He kissed her with his tongue half way down her throat and his hand rubbing her crotch.

Olga pulled the red dress over her head and stepped out of her sandals. Totally naked, she threw her arms around my neck. “I’m even friendlier. Don’t you think?”

Olga gave me a big wet kiss. With her tongue snaking around in my mouth, she walked me backward until the back of my knees collided with the bed. She unfastened my double-knit pants and pulled them and my boxers off my hips. Her little push toppled me onto the bed; somehow my pants and shoes were totally off before I bounced twice. Lying on the hotel bed in nothing but socks and my very cool, blue paisley, polyester disco shirt, I felt Olga’s breath on my balls. She licked that spot between my balls and my ass, while nuzzling the rear of my balls. My cock was so hard it felt like the skin was going to split open like a bratwurst on the grill. Her tongue worked its way across my nuts and ascended my shaft.

I glanced across the room and found Cindy on Swen’s lap in the easy chair. Her yellow empire waist dress was pushed up just under her breasts, her panties on the floor. Swen was locked in a deep soul kiss with her while he fingered her slit.

Olga bobbed her mouth on my cock and gave it a few little twisting, corkscrew moves. I was in sensory overload. This tall blonde that I had just met was giving me my first-ever blowjob while my wife was making out with the blonde’s husband. Olga twisted all the way around and dropped into a sixty-nine. That woman had phenomenal aim. All at once I found my mouth on her clitoris and my nose at the entrance to her vagina. I may have been new to swapping, but cuninlingus was something I knew. Cindy may not have liked giving oral, but she sure liked receiving. I tried to give Olga the best I knew how to do—not easy with the distraction of my penis in her mouth.

Olga disengaged just long enough to tell me that my moustache was tickling her. I redoubled my attentions to her clit and soon the veins in her pussy throbbed as she orgasmed. As she rolled off saying the she could not take any more, I got the shock of the night. Cindy was on the floor, between Swen’s knees licking and sucking on his dick. Looked like my XYL had become a XXXYL

“Dave, please fuck me.” Olga was on elbows and knees with her pale Nordic ass in the air and her wet pussy glistening from amongst her wispy blond pubic hair. To this day, that is my favorite pose. I slipped in to her improbably tight and slippery pussy and gave my best imitation of a porn star. I pumped and pumped for hours. Okay, it was about three minutes. I never said it was a good imitation of a porn star, and after all it had been an intense evening already.

Propped up on one elbow, I saw Cindy and Swen had moved on to a slow, sensuous missionary screw on the other bed. I was too sated to be jealous, but I was excited watching them. Cindy’s flushed skin told me that she was very excited and very close, but Swen was the archetype of control. He had a fantastic mix of short and long strokes that seemed to be exactly what Cindy needed. Her flush deepened and her hips bounced off the bed as she thrust herself at Swen. She yelled, “Oh God! Yes. Yes. Deeper. Oh my God that’s it!” Her gyrations settled back down following her orgasm and Swen sped up for about twenty more strokes and came in my wife’s cunt.

Everyone drifted off to sleep in the afterglow. Around two in the morning, I woke to the sound of the other bed bouncing. Not to let Cindy and Swen have all the fun, I woke Olga and she and I were soon humping, also. Another round of orgasms and we all drifted back to sleep.

Next morning, we four breakfasted together and were back on the road by nine. It was a very quiet trip all the way to Orlando, not even much chatter from the CB. We bid farewell to the Friendly Neighbor and Olga as we took the exit off the turnpike. The quiet continued as I pondered the events of the previous night. Was this just vacation fun? Did we strengthen or damage our marriage? Was I jealous, was Cindy? Would we swap again? Who would start the conversation? I knew that I still loved Cindy, but did she still love me? Why was Cindy not her normal chatty self? My questions festered through our stilted week in the Magic Kingdom.

Finally during the drive home, they all broke open and we had the first frank discussion in our marriage. Cindy had been so quiet because she was worried that I was pissed and jealous. I assured her that I was mostly confused but more than that I was worried that she was pissed and jealous. A pair of nervous chuckles finished breaking the ice. When I told Cindy that I was a surprised that she had been sucking Swen’s cock because she had never done mine, she explained that it was her first attempt. She only tried it because Olga was doing me and she thought Swen would expect it. My adventurous Cindy first mentioned the risks that we took jumping into the sack with strangers. The swap had been terrific fun but had become frightening in retrospect. We agreed that swingers’ clubs and swaps with strangers were not going to be in our future. I kept the CB turned off for the long 55 MPH drive back to Indiana. Cindy and I talked at length about what we would like to try with each other in our bed at home.

May 2018
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