I opened as wide as I could tried to swallow him and instantly gagged.You ok, he asked.I didn’t even answer, I tried again. I felt his cock hit the ...back of my throat and then gagged again.Maybe it’s the angle, he said, try kneeling on the bed next to me.I got up and joined him on the bed. He stayed in the same position. I leaned over and started to blow his thick cock again. As I did, I felt his hand start at my back and slide down to my ass.Mmmm I moaned with his cock in my mouth.I began to. " It is, but it's not something we mention."She'd taught me that they were known as 'swingers', something I'd heard reference to on Jerry Springer, but hadn't questioned too much. It was cheating, after all, and that was bad, unless you were with a group where it was okay.After the second night I had one of those little meetings with myself to explore my feelings. I was having sex with married men, well all but Hank, and that was sort of cheating. But their wives agreed. And that's when Robin. Everything was sex with him. His being, his brain, his heart, his cock made her feel perpetually on the verge of coming.He fucked her feministly. He was bold and assertive and powerful. He took her fully. And yet, the power was always underpinned by an erotic politics of equity. Every time they fucked she had to ask him to stop the second his perfect cock slid into her tight pussy. She needed a moment to breathe, to encounter the delicious impossible task of stopping herself from coming. But when you add up the number of times and the number comments and the increasing frequency of those times, it was becoming apparent to me that she was only a short step away from actually going through with it.For my part, I didn't even need porn any more. A couple pictures of her photo-shopped onto a similar looking woman with a black man and a couple odd shots we have with her posing with a couple black men starts me off. Then all I have to do is think about her comments and actions and go.