Richard and Franco 07
Meeting Urban and Victoria
Bisex-MMMF
My name is Richard. I'm 28 years old and and I've lived with my husband, Franco, in La Spezia, Italy for five and a half years now.
I work as an accountant. I grew up and went to college in the U.S.
Since college I lived in Haiti and France, each for eigthteen months.
We swing but don't do anything without the other present and consenting.
My husband now, and my lover since I left the U.S. is a Spanish man one year older than me named Franco.
He's worked in hotels and resorts and now he's managing the biggest hotel in town; he reports to the owners in Berlin, and they leave him alone as long as it makes money.
Franco and I had a low-key wedding in the States at the church where I had ushered during college, and another, bigger wedding in Italy.
It turns out that each church was one hour from one of our boyhood homes.
Finding an open and affirming church in a Catholic country like Spain is an interesting task.
At the point where we had come back from our honeymoon and had been back at work for a month, at Saturday morning breakfast, Franco started talking to me in Hatian Creole. We used this for private conversations in public places. Franco said, "If the two of us have sex with somebody else together, that's okay"?
I nodded back to him. "Consenting, no secrets. Sober; we know what we did drunk on Gypsy wine and don't want that again. I let Betty use you, and she's married, right?"
"Just making sure", Franco said.
"Did you meet somebody or did the Australian Surfer find us in Italy?", I asked.
"I think we should hook up with a couple. A guy and a girl this time", he said.
I'd started to think about it when from out of nowhere a black woman in her late twenties came up to our table. With a big grin, she said, Hatian Creole, "You two are some kinky fags!".
We paid our check and went home. As for the mechanics of it, we decided that we'd both enjoy it and we'd shared each other's bodies before. We talked about who we knew and who we could get to know, and my first thought was a couple that in my mind I was calling "Glenn and Hope".
The real "Glenn and Hope" were a bi couple I'd had some flings with in college; they had showed up at all the GSA dances though they appeared to be straight, at least until you were in a hotel room with them. I described the couple from the Advocacy Center dances to Franco and he knew who I was talking about.
A week later, there was a dance at the Advocacy center. Franco and I had already identified the couple that we wanted to meet.
We made sure that we'd both danced with both of them, and Franco and I pulled them to a table. It was too loud to talk, but they agreed to meet us for coffee the next morning, Sunday.
At the cafe, they both showed up dressed in white. She wore a white sundress and sandals with about one inch heels, he had a clean white tank top with a white jacket and long white seersucker pants, and white Birkenstock Arizonas. I thought that if you asked an artist to paint a picture of a European couple that swings, this is what the artist would come up with.
We learned that their names were Urban and Victoria. They were both bi and they had done some swinging. They'd been a couple for three years, had done pegging maybe four times and had included other people, sometimes just one and sometimes as many as eight, but usually other couples. They didn't have a strong preference of one gender over another, but they told us that they both loved to close their eyes and explore another person's body with their hands.
This was very interesting, but I was distracted by the sight of the Hatian woman, who was heading towards us. Her eyes lit up and her mouth went wide open to see us having coffee with this couple. I motioned for her to shush, so she stayed quiet but came up behind Franco and I, put one hand on a shoulder of each of us and just said, "Good morning, boys", in Creole, and went to get her coffee.
My face felt warm and Franco was turning red.
"Who was that?", asked Urban.
"We don't know her name", said Franco.
I explained, "Franco and I used Hatian to speak privately in public, and she heard us when we started talking about meeting another couple and called us out on it. She knows damn well what we're talking to you two about".
The word "Hatian" seemed to set off alarm bells with Urban, so we explained that we had been tested about six times since leaving Haiti and used condoms liberally. That put them back at ease. Having finished our coffee, we all went to our apartment.
As soon as we were inside the door we all had our sandals off, which made Urban and Victoria look even more like swingers.
Victoria was on Urban's lap and I had my bare feet on Franco's while we spent ten minutes establishing ground rules and boundaries. It occured to me that Fanco and I were veteran swingers ourselves, though we'd never worn the label.
The talking was winding up when Franco and I started putting condoms and lube within reach. We kept two boxes of tissue at the head of the bed at all times.
The last thing we talked about was establishing that I was going to have sex with Victoria and Franco was going to have Urban's ass today, but that these parings would change for future encounters.
Then, the talking stopped.
Victoria was a skinny blonde and probably the closest thing to a woman who was a model, that I'll ever touch.
We kissed first, then started undressing each other. Once she was naked we pulled together and started making out. My hands started on her shoulders, then her back and ass cheeks. She got the idea of what I had in mind and started feeling me up, too. I worked my hands back up to her tits, and soon learned that her nipples were already hard. That's when I made a quick check of her pussy, which was already wet. This was going awfully fast, especially since we had met up jsut to have coffee.
I saw that Franco and Urban were still making out but had their hands on each other's cocks as I led Victoria to our bed. She got comfortable with a pillow under her head and legs spread. I got on top of her and gave her some more French kisses, then worked my way down and celebrated her tits and nipples with my mouth, tongue and hands. She was making a lot of noise now, all of it happy. Franco and Urban had broken apart and watched us for a few seconds before Urban got in bed, kissed his wife, and settled in next to her on his hands and knees.
I kept my hands on Victoria's tits as long as I could while my mouth worked down to her pussy, then my hands grabbed her ass cheeks and I went to work on her labia and started paying close attention to her breathing and squirming.
I guess that Franco was dealing with a condom, lube and penetrating Urban's ass doggie style, but I was in no position to watch.
Victoria's breathing was fast, and it sounded like she was concentrating to keep it steady. I made myself count backwards from twenty in my head, then I squeezed her ass and let my tongue go to town on her clit. Victoria loudly told the whole neighborhood that she was having a powerful orgasm. Urban seemed to feel it, or maybe that was Franco's dick finding Urban's prostate.
I moved back up and held Victoria while she got her breathing under control. Her eyes were closed for half a minute, then she watched Franco fucking her husband's ass for a bit before looking at me and asking, "Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Now is good", I answered, and put on a condom.
I tried to take my time in getting inside of Victoria's pussy, but honestly there was very little resistance and it took maybe half a minute till I was in all the way.
Once home, I French kissed her and then nibbled at her tits before I got moving.
Franco and Urban were near climax as I got started fucking Victoria's pussy, so I did my best to ignore them. I worked really hard to start slow and get a rhythm that was good for a long haul.
I may have been to careful, because I think that she got frustrated. I took a hint and started pumping a bit faster and put more force into it, and she seemed to appreciate it.
I got that rhythm steady for a couple of minutes then sped it up a second time. Soon after that I got that feeling that my brain wasn't going to be driving much longer, and when that moment came I just let it happen. I was pounding her as hard as I thought was healthy, and she was making surprised noises now. That feeling grew so that my brain let go completely and then I was coming into the condom. Victoria's eyes were wide open, like she'd never seen this before, and I became aware that Franco and Urban were cuddling while they watched us.
A minute after I came, I sat back and pulled out. Franco was up and got busy; he took the spent condom off of me and he started cleaning us up with tissues.
Fifteen minutes later we were all dressed, kissed and promised to get together again, probably in a couple of months.
Two months later, Franco fucked Victoria's pussy while Urban fucked my ass.
Franco and I wouldn't have wanted them as daily lovers, and I don't think that our hearts were given away to them, but they seemed to know what they were doing, and they kept us from being bored.
When we'd been in Italy three years we moved from our first apartment to a house that we rented on the edge of town. It was our first unfurnished place, and we bought 80% of what we needed from an estate sale.
We've been steadily replacing the ugliest stuff with new since then. Franco and I mostly identify as gay, and theres something of a decorator streak in us.
We had been in this house for eighteen months when the landlord asked us if we wanted to buy the house. Our bank said that we were good for it, and so now Franco and I own the house. The mortgage payment turns out to be less than what our rent was.
The day that we signed the mortgage paperwork, we came home and celebrated.
Our sandals were off the second that we were in the door, and it was locked.
We French kissed each other, open mouths and a lot of tongue.
We pulled each other's shirts off. Mine actually tore, but I was ready to replace it.
I went for Franco's nipples, nibbling one while I pinched the other. He made a loud gasp and grabbed for my dick through my shorts.
We undid our belts and pulled off our shorts and briefs.
Now we were naked and hard. We dropped on the Persian rug and started sucking each other's dicks on the floor of the living room. We weren't going slow or just licking each other today; we just tried to get our dicks as far down our throats as we could. Finally, we had to let go of each other to keep from coming.
We French kissed some more, keeping our dicks from each other because we needed a pause.
A problem presented itself then because we both wanted to bottom.
"Frottage", I said. "We've never done it."
Franco and I each know five languages well enough to buy groceries and order a meal, but he didn't know this word.
"We're going to rub our dicks onto each other till we make a mess", I explained, and I got back down on the rug.
Franco broke a grin and joined me. We picked up the French kissing and grabbed each other, moving our hands between our shoulders and ass cheeks.
We were trying to fuck each other's bellies. We started fast and never slowed down.
The only bad part was that we didn't last very long. We came on each other about a half-minute apart.
After we cleaned up and had our shorts back on, there was one grey stain in the rug that became permanent.
Neither Franco nor I can look at that little grey dot without smiling.
That night we went to a real restaurant, not the cafe's that had been our "go-to" for the last many years, and had champaigne, probably for the last time till the mortgage has been paid off.
It was three months after we bought the house that a call came from the United States. My parents had decided that they were going to sell the house that I had grown up in, and they expected that to happen six months afterwards. I said I'd come, and they insisted that I bring Franco.
Our flight was two months later, and I'd already talked to a shipping company that could do an overseas shipment. I later learned that military people do this all the time.
When we arrived I picked up a rental car and we stayed in a hotel in my home town.
The next morning we had the hotel's continental breakfast. When you're used to cafe's in France and Italy, a hotel breakfast in the U.S. is something of a shock.
Franco was feeling proud of the food at the hotel he managed back in Italy.
I told my parents that Franco and I would be going through my room for an hour, then we'd talk about lunch.
I ran out to the rental car and brought in three boxes, about 12 x 12 x 18" each. As soon as I was in my room with Franco I pulled out my leather harness and put it on over my bare chest. Franco was startled. "I've never seen that"!
"It's time you did. I haven't seen this since right after college. I'm glad it fits", I replied.
I assembled the boxes, marked them "Italy", "Donate" and "Trash" and started classifying everything in the room. I put Franco in a spot on the bed and told him to rest up and get his strength back because my parents weren't done with him. He was lounging on the bed and watching me take my old room apart dressed like an S&M prop.
He was quiet for a half hour, and I was moving pretty quick. My childhood memories were mostly in Bill's back yard, and my old room was just where I slept, not some temple, so most of things were "Trash" or "Donate".
After 30 minutes of watching me go through stuff with the harness on, Franco asked me if I'd ever been tied up. He asked in Catalan.
"Once, in college", I replied.
"We should try that," Franco said.
"We have to learn the knots first; the quick-release is complicated," I told him.
"There's shops in Madrid with nylon gear. The quick release is built-in", Franco told me.
I stopped sorting to think. "Two months", I said. "My next time off is two months. We'll get bondage gear in Madrid. Hold me to that", I told Franco.
"I'll bind you to it with nylon shackes with a quick release!", he promised.
When I had sorted everything, I bravely took the box marked "Trash" out to the curb wearing just a pair of shorts and the leather harness, wondering who would see me and working to keep a straight face. Franco's eyes were big, and my parents looked really surprised when I came back into the house. "You have to move now!", I grinned.
When I got back into the bedroom I took off the harness and put it in the Italy box. I showed the "Donate" box to my parents so they could do what they wanted with it. I had a kids book about rockets that Bill had liked when we were little; I kept that out for now. Franco and I put shirts on, made sure that my parents were legally dressed and we got lunch.
After lunch I took the "Italy" box and Franco and went to the shipping company. I brought the box in and put it on the counter, and told the man at the desk who I was, and that I was here to send houshold goods to Italy. He checked his paperwork and asked what day I wanted it picked up. That confused me.
"I brought it here", I said.
"where is it?", he asked.
"That box!", I pointed at the box we'd carried in.
"That's your household goods?!" he asked, surprised.
"I've lived overseas for eight years. This is just my stuff from my old room. My parents are moving to a condo, so I had to get my stuff", I told him.
There was a plywood box, ten feet tall by five feet by five feet, behind his desk that I'd been ignoring.
The man pointed to this big thing and said, "That's a normal household goods shipment. That's going to Japan tomorrow."
He had me inventory my box, put in something soft so it would be okay, and sealed the edges with tape.
Franco and I made sure that the address was right for our house in Tarragona, and the man told me that it would be inside a solid plywood crate and would probably take six weeks.
"No hurry", I told him, and then Franco and I left.
The next day we visited Bill and Betty, and weren't ready for the scene that we beheld.
These had been my playmates as a toddler, and as teenagers we learned about sex together and opened our hearts to each other.
When Franco and I showed up that day, they'd been married for over three years.
The maturity and intellect that I loved them for was gone. Bill was in shorts, socks and a tee shirt. He'd put on weight, looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two, and looked exhausted. Betty was following Sam around trying to clean up after him, but the house looked like Vikings had stormed the place overnight and forgot to torch it when they left.
Betty and Bill did get up to hug and kiss Franco and I. I tried to greet Sam. Sam handed me a red plastic sword and said something I didn't understand about a horse.
Betty looked me straight in the eye and didn't say anything, but that look was saying, "Help!".
I looked at Bill. He was the bookish one. He'd found a book on gay sex in the college library when he was seventeen. We were on swim team together; when he was ripped and muscle-bound, so was I. He looked like he had given up on reading and thinking, at least for this life. I handed Bill my old rocket book. He took it and gave me a dumb look.
"For Sam", I explained.
"Ah!", said Bill. "Thanks".
I looked at Franco. Betty, Bill and I were only children and hadn't watched little brothers and sisters get raised, and our helplessness was showing now.
Franco told me what we could do, at least short term. He was talking to me in Catalan.
I told Bill that we could take Sam for a walk so that him and Betty could maybe get showers, he could shave and they could have a few minutes to think.
That took a minute to sink in, then Bill agreed. He told Betty what our idea was, and she finally smiled.
They put shoes on Sam, which looked difficult, and then a nylon harness and a leash.
A leash on a two year old. I just looked at Bill. "He wants to run into the street without it", he explained.
I handed Franco the leash, on the grounds that he had a bit more mass and he had dealt with siblings and a hundred cousins when he was growing up.
All that we did was walk around the block. Sam asked us questions we couldn't wrap our heads around, which is good because he didn't wait for an answer before exclaiming something about the local birds, squirrels and cars. It took us twenty minutes to get back to the front door again.
Betty had Sam explain the walk, which sounded a lot more exciting than the one that Franco and I had been on. Betty put Sam down for a nap.
Her and Bill had showered and dressed, and the house looked more cleaned up. Us adults talked about our wedding in Italy, their search for daycare, our jobs and caught up on gossip about old friends, classmates and teachers. I told them about us trying to talk privately in Hatian and being caught by a Hatian lady in Italy, which they got a kick out of. I have to say that they seemed a lot happier than when Franco and I had shown up. We kissed and left them to their house of marital bliss and toddler terror.
When we got in the rental car I asked Franco to remind me to tell Sam about this day when he turns sixteen.
The next day we returned the car and flew back home to Italy.
Eight weeks later the box showed up from the States. The only thing memorable that I shipped was the leather harness, which made it's European debut that day.
Two days later Franco and I did some shopping in Madrid. I got some new clothes for work, and we bought some nylon ankle and wrist clamps that could fit on our bed. As we were paying for them the clerk said, "You've picked a safe word, I trust?".
I looked at the clerk and said, "Sam".
Franco barked out a laugh.
Franco used the straps on me in our hotel room in Madrid that night.
The next morning we were back in the shop; we bought black leather crotchless pants, vests and silly police hats, and then drove back to Tarragona.
Six months after our Madrid trip, my parents sold the house and were in a condo, so they had one less room, and access to the complex pool.