House Party 2 has been available on Amazon for some time, and I’ve decided to pull it out of Kindle Unlimited to distribute the story wide as it’s known in the trade. It will now be available on KinkyLiterature, Kindle Unlimited, SmashWords, Apple iBooks, B&N, Scribd, etc. Unfortunately, all links are not currently available, but I’ll update this post as the story gets pushed out to all suppliers.
House Party 2 is surprisingly the second story in the House Party series. I think the four stories in the box set is one of my better stories. I started writing smut ten years ago to talk about our adventures in the swinging Lifestyle. As throwing your house keys in a bowl is not something you can typically talk about around the water cooler, I decided to write about it. This was the start of the Foxy and Larry saga. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have used Foxy and Larry as the characters’ names in my stories, but I never realized that it wasn’t the best decision until I’d published a few stories. However, here we are thirty-plus books later, and like a lot of things, I’m stuck with what I started ten years ago.
“House Party” describes what swingers call their get-togethers at someone’s house. The term “throw your keys in a bowl” is one that straights often use to describe our parties, but nothing is further from the truth. The phrase implies that your partner for the night is chosen by random selection, but that’s not exactly how it works.
A House Party is somewhat like a cocktail party with your friends, except that you get to have more fun. Then it’s okay to tell your spouse the dirty details. When you meet someone you are attracted to, it’s permitted to slip off to the bedroom for a while. No Strings Attached (NSA) sex is precisely that. You don’t have to say I love you or call her the next morning, and you go home with your significant other.
For those who are broadminded enough to allow their partner to enjoy the company of others without recrimination, swinging is a fun activity. For us, the Lifestyle has been fulfilling in many ways. I have a high sex drive, and there are often wives in need. My wife is a closet exhibitionist and loves to wear outfits that are questionably legal. For us, it’s been a good combination, and house parties have always been our favorite activity.
House Parties are a good place for newbies to start also. In many cases, both of you will not be attracted to both halves of a couple. This may result in what’s known as a “charity fuck” where you end up with someone who is not your first choice.
A reasonably sized party will have ten to twenty couples and gives you a good selection. Plus, if you don’t meet anyone who appeals to you, it’s easy to blend into the background.
My House Party series was based upon the idea that Foxy would run off with a guy she met at the party. She ends up in Los Angeles and discovers the guy produces porn movies. Foxy is an ex-model and has never met a camera she didn’t like. So, it was easy for me to picture her running off and making dirty movies.
As a couple in real life, I would like to think that we’d never break up. So, this was the closest I could come to causing a marital tiff. Beyond being somewhat exaggerated, I’ve always written the characters in my stories as reacting the same way we do in reality. Anytime you read of a character with a different name, it’s usually going to do something we would not normally do.
The House Party series is currently four books, and each one can more or less stand on its own. If you read them in order, it’s a better flow, but that’s just my opinion.
Long story, short, the second in the series, House Party 2, is now released on Kinky Literature, SmashWords, Apple iBooks, and most other publishers today Friday 13-May-2022. If you’ve read the series on Amazon, then you don’t need to buy a new copy, but if you did, I’d love you even more!
Grab your copy of House Party 2 now before you have second thoughts! Available in both electronic and paperback formats.
Here’s an X-rated excerpt to whet your appetite.
Foxy was in the middle of coupling with the same two guys and a girl from her first “official” porn movie and seriously felt there was truth to the “getting your brains fucked out” theory.
One guy was in her throat, or at least as far as his big dick could go in her mouth. The other guy was completely buried in her ass. She could feel his balls slapping against her cunt every time he rammed his cock home. To top it off, her girlfriend was underneath her, licking Foxy’s wet, drooling cunt.
In Foxy’s fantasy world, she could picture the heads of their dicks touching in her stomach. She was being skewered from both ends or spit-roasted as the saying goes. Almost every time the guy rammed his cock up her ass, she would orgasm. It went in so deep, and she imagined this is how a colonoscopy must feel, except that the scope was likely a lot smaller than the cock buried in her ass.
She had just sucked the other guy off, and he had fired his load into her mouth and across her face. The problem with huge dicks is that it was hard to contain all the cum in your mouth. Now, I need Max with his camera crew, she told herself with a giggle as she felt the cream dripping off her chin. She could feel his jizz tightening on her face as it dried and could just imagine how slutty she looked. Hopefully, I can remember to get a selfie before passing out after they finish with me.
The dick in her ass had just stopped erupting and felt like it was down to a dribble as the guy slowly pulled his cock out. When the head slipped out, she collapsed onto the girl underneath and buried her head between her sweet thighs to lap up the juice on her young shaved pussy.
Her new girlfriend June was so nasty, maybe even more than Foxy if that was even possible. She had climaxed so many times that now, even with a tongue buried in her well-fucked hole, she could barely respond to the sensations that continued to pound her brain.
Then as she felt the cock juice starting to drip out of her wide-open rear hole and run down into her girlfriend’s mouth, Foxy managed to work out a feeble climax. The orgasm was so weak; it barely registered in her fevered brain as she tried to focus on the young girl’s sweet pussy in front of her face.
Through the fog of her orgasm, she heard “Larry Archer,” which snapped her to relative alertness.
“What? What was that?” she muttered as she tried to force her brain to reboot. Listening, she realized that she’d heard something on the television. “Give me the remote!” she ordered.
Turning towards the television, Foxy tried to focus on the big LED screen. One eye glued completely shut from dried spunk and the other partially covered with a rope of cum that stretched from her hair across her face to her cheek.
Holding the unfamiliar remote in her hand, Foxy searched for and finally found the reverse button to back up the program. Thank God for satellite television, she told herself as she punched the reverse then play buttons. If Larry has gotten hurt because of my shenanigans, I’ll never forgive myself.
After a second, the screen cleared, and she watched as a line of limousines pulled up to a hotel entrance. The valet rushed to open the rear door and outstretched Porsche, one of the Mayor’s constant companions. Dressed in a typical sequined showgirl bikini outfit, she seemed ten-feet tall with the plumage from the headdress.
The Mayor was the perfect symbol of Las Vegas. He was a short chubby guy who got his chops as a lawyer defending mobsters and organized crime figures in Chicago. Everywhere he went, two showgirls accompanied him, dressed in classic costumes, complete with mile-high feathered headgear.
Porsche was Foxy’s favorite showgirl, and they had spent many hours in bed together, without the headdress.
Next, the Mayor exited his limo, carefully balancing his ever-present martini to avoid spilling it. The Mayor always had a perpetual grin on his face. He was a perfect representative for the excesses of Las Vegas and as a retired mob lawyer, well suited for the job as Mayor of the greatest city in the world.
Taking a sip of his martini for the cameras, he extended his hand into the limo and helped his second showgirl out. Another of Foxy’s “close” friends, she could feel her nether regions dampen from the erotic thoughts of those two.
The next vehicle up was a black Suburban and not a limousine as expected. Larry, you asshole, always have to be different! Foxy relaxed as she realized that he wasn’t hurt or in trouble. The enormous armored 3500 series Suburban with oversized run-flat tires and bulletproof windows, looked like a hungry lion among a herd of gazelles. She could almost hear the whine of the turbochargers on the 454 cubic inch V8 engine. Then the driver’s side and front passenger doors opened, and two girls exited.
Foxy recognized them as two valets from The Fox’s Den except they were mostly clothed, which was the unusual part. Wearing sleeveless white shirts with a diamond opening to expose their young boobs, both girls were wearing black bow ties, black miniskirts with black strappy stripper shoes. They were perfect representatives of The Fox’s Den, her husband’s famous strip club.
The girls opened the rear door, and from the back seat came a long, long leg exposed all the way to the waist. Foxy wondered how long she had practiced that exit as the side slit on the dress went all the way up to the promised land.
She laughed to herself as she noted that the cameraman subconsciously centered his video camera on the girl’s crotch. The dress, open from the slit, went across the girl’s thigh and just barely hid the evidence of her wearing underwear or not. Foxy assumed she was commando, as she was Larry’s date.
The dress looked familiar, and then she realized, The Mayor’s Charity Ball is tonight and she’d completely forgotten about it. I know Larry is mortified with me being in Los Angeles, not to mention getting my brains fucked out by two huge cocks.
When the rest of the girl appeared, it somewhat relieved Foxy that it was Sherry, the girl she’d asked to look after Larry. God, she was gorgeous and wearing a dress Larry had just bought for me. Sherry filled it out much better with her big melons, and Foxy could see that the top of the dress was under a lot of strain, courtesy of the best plastic surgeons around.
She remembered being shocked at the price tag and wondered why the less you got, the more you paid. The cameraman zoomed in on Sherry’s big tits as the moderators talked in the background.
“Who is that with Larry Archer? That’s not his wife, is it? I thought she was a big-haired brunette and not a blonde.”
“She looks familiar, but …, wait that’s Sherry Marsh from Channel Twelve News, isn’t it? Where’s Larry’s wife, and what’s he doing with Sherry?”
“I’d heard there might be trouble in River City, but that was just a rumor. Sherry looks exceptionally beautiful without her typical work outfit on.”
“Did you say they were having problems?”
“I just heard that Sherry was spending a lot of time with Larry and some other woman but wasn’t sure if it meant anything or not.”
“Here comes Larry out now. He is smashing in that tuxedo with his chiseled body and sexy looks. You know, I agree that he looks a lot like a young Elvis Presley. He has that sweet and innocent yet dangerous look about him.”
“He is reaching back into the Suburban; maybe Foxy is on the far side. No, no, that’s not her, it’s another tall blonde, similarly dressed or undressed.”
“Remember, the mic is on!”
“Sorry, ignore that last remark. This girl is tall, well over six-foot, and stunning to be polite. She’s wearing a similar metallic dress, open in all the right places, and with the backlight, almost transparent. Larry has done all right with these two. If the Archer’s are having problems, he’s obviously not letting it bother him.”
“I guess it took two to replace his hot wife!” the one moderator snickered.
Both moderators politely laughed at the comment as the second girl slid out of the Suburban, and both girls stood with their arms interlinked in Larry’s and smiled for the cameras which blinded them from all the strobes going off.
Larry walked over to the Mayor, who stood there waiting, and they both shook hands. Larry kissed both showgirls on the cheek and introduced his dates.
“Mr. Mayor, please allow me to introduce Sherry and Delphine. Girls, this is the Mayor of our fine city.”
Handing his martini to one of the showgirls, the Mayor kissed both of Larry’s girls while trying not to stare at the mountains of boob flesh exposed. He was shorter, which put his face right on the proper level, and all he could think of was motorboating those jugs.
Turning to Larry, he quipped, “Two for one tonight, big guy?” Then after a moment’s hesitation, “Foxy indisposed?”
“She’s out of town, “ Larry answered noncommittally.
“We need to get together and talk about your upcoming Charity Bikini Golf Tournament. I’ve got some ideas on how to expand it and bring in even more money for local charities,” the Mayor said while not taking his eyes off Sherry and Del’s luscious hooters.
About this time, the Sheriff walked up with his wife and shook hands with everyone. His wife Rachel was an attractive woman in her mid-forties with short blonde hair and wearing an expensive dress that was relatively modest considering her husband’s position.
Rachel’s husband Doug was a poster boy for someone in law enforcement. He was six-foot, broad shoulders, and crew-cut blond hair. For all their differences, Doug and Larry had formed a lifelong friendship.
Kissing Larry on the cheek, Rachel whispered in his ear, “Is everything okay with you and Foxy? I’ve heard rumors and now seeing you with these two bombshells! And both blonde to boot, Larry. That’s almost heresy.”
“Everything’s fine, she’s just out of town for a couple of weeks,” Larry answered.
There was a concern on her face as she replied, “Call me when you’re alone and can talk.”
Larry squeezed her arm and replied, “Will do.”
She looked him right in the eyes and added, “Soon!” Then she gave him a peck on the lips, and Larry was sure he felt the tip of her tongue give him a little poke.
They formed up and walked in behind the Mayor and his entourage of showgirls.
The television coverage switched to a car wreck on the 405, and Foxy clicked off the TV. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she said.
“What’s wrong?” her girlfriend asked.
Throwing the remote down on the bed, Foxy fell back as a tear ran down her cheek. “I completely forgot about the Mayor’s Charity Ball and Awards Ceremony tonight. If Larry wasn’t pissed at me before, he would be now! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“What’s he got to be mad about? It looks like he has two beautiful women, one on each arm,” her girlfriend asked.
“Face, it’s all about face, and that’s terribly important to Larry. I’m not there with him, and now I’ve fucked up big time. This could be trouble!” she said as she rolled over and cried into her pillow.
“he looks a lot like a young Elvis Presley. He has that sweet and innocent yet dangerous look about him.”
An accurate description of you, Larry? ;^)
And from what you’ve told me, I wouldn’t say Foxy is a closet exhibitionist!
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From what they tell me, the description is relatively accurate. As they say still waters run deep. LOL My wife is a strange combination of shy and exhibitionist. When she’s on a roll, Foxy is a real trip. I confess that I don’t understand how she can be the two people she is. Sometimes I think she has a Sybil disorder but you gotta love her.