Unknown

Racial swap-night

CHAPTER ONE

Eddie Frampton folded his tall but lithe and muscular frame into the brand new Porsche, started the motor, jerked it into reverse gear and rocketed the machine down the drive into the quiet street. Tires squealing and engine reving like mad, he headed toward Manna Avenue and back to the club. The ache in his loins and his feeling of sexual deprivation told him, only too clearly that there was a big void in his married life although in almost every other direction, his life had changed for the better.

Jesus Christ! Alyce looks she'd be the most fabulous lay of the century… that luscious body, it sure fooled me. Why does she just lay there like a sack of flour when I fuck her? She's so Goddamn passive, I feel like I might as well shove my cock into an inflatable doll. It's not normal. She thinks everything but the missionary position is only for perverts. Even with the missionary she just lies there and throws her legs up and waits for me to get it over with.

I better keep my mind on the road, he suddenly realized after just roaring right past a stop sign. But presently his attention was focused back in his groin. Fuck! I've got such an ache in my balls! I don't have to go home for lunch. It would be just as convenient to have it at the club, but I like to see my wife but apparently she isn't that happy to see me.

He let his mind drift back over the little scene he had just gone through.

Still in his tennis gear, the handsome pro bounced into the house, entering the kitchen where Alyce was preparing lunch. He enveloped his wife of three months in a great bear hug, giving her a lingering kiss, hard on her upturned lips, leaning his head down to her and using his tongue to force open her lips to him. The uptight young woman had made this concession to her lusty husband; his desire for what she considered unnecessary sexual contact, especially, in a casual kiss of greeting or goodbye.

The lovely blonde was a little repulsed, but she had decided that it was a small thing for her to do if it was something that Eddie really wanted.

"What's on the menu, darling?" he asked, looking around the kitchen.

"Tuna salad," she said, "we're going to go strictly low calorie around here."

"Sounds great to me," he said, "those five pounds I put on over our honeymoon sure show up when I'm playing. I think it was all those chocolate eclairs for breakfast."

"Yes," she answered with mock sterness, "no more decadence at the table. I don't want this body looking like someone blew me up with a bicycle pump."