Often I’ve been perplexed — and amused — that some couples work so hard to keep the passion alive as the years slip by. That’s never been a problem for Polly and me. We’ve been married nearly two decades, and things seem to be more thrill-filled now than they’ve ever been.

I suppose the fact that we’re a pair of longtime swingers partly explains why our desire for each other has kept on truckin’ over time. You see, both of us were in the lifestyle before we got together.

In fact, we met at a rather large and boisterous orgy in the spacious penthouse suite of an upscale Miami location. The occasion was one of those hotel takeover events. 

I was standing in a large room beside one of two king-size mattresses covered with writhing bodies. I was naked but for the boxer briefs that had fallen to my ankles, and my cock was being rather skillfully sucked by a kittenish 20-something named Jill — or maybe it was Gillian — who had caught my eye a few minutes earlier. My date for the evening, Sheryl, was somewhere in a nearby room, doing God knows what with heaven knows who. Sheryl and I were lifestyle friends with benefits. We would go to couples-only events together, but our relationship wasn’t romantic. We were just pervy playmates.

As Jill/Gillian sucked my hard-on, my eyes fell on my future bride at one end of the mattress. Polly — a stunning brunette with curves aplenty, stupendous breasts and an ample ass — was being taken doggy-style by a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman from Mumbai. The dude was really going to town on her pussy — just railing her. What hooked me at first was that Polly wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses. Something about that just drew me in: the combination of her wantonness and look of studiousness. In an instant, I felt I had to be with this woman, hopefully forever. And — what do you know? — she was staring back at me with a look of interest mixed with puzzlement. Later, she told me what she’d felt when she saw me was strikingly similar to what I said I’d felt for her.

But this strange desire played an odd trick on me. My usually avid dick went limp. It had become suddenly bored by the efforts of Jill/Gillian’s lips and tongue. However, my kitten-cute cocksucker — bless her — didn’t take my deflation personally. She stood up, smiled and gave me a quick peck on the lips with her talented kisser. Then she left me standing alone with my underwear on the floor.

Polly and I found each other later that night in the suite’s bar area. We talked easily, without hesitation. We chatted until the hosts evicted us.

Sheryl had located me at some point. She was going off with new playmates to have a nightcap a few blocks away. I could have told her then: No more need for a wing person; I’ve found my ring person. And it would have been true. Four months later, Polly and I tied the knot.

As a young man, I’d been briefly married once before — for just over two years. Polly, who’d attended that hotel party as a single woman, had never before been wed. She’d notched a couple of medium-term relationships. But on the night we’d made our acquaintance, we’d both agreed we’d never experienced anything quite like meeting each other. Our connection was genuine. When we finally fell into bed together in my hotel room as dawn approached, the sex we’d had was like a deluge in a field of hot dust. Then we slept in each other’s arms for hours.

I hope what I’ve written so far has seemed both sexy and romantic. But it’s only the backstory to the tale I intend to relate: the tale of how Polly and I had the most incredible threesome with a young would-be swinger named Ambrose.

Even though my romance with Polly has been fulfilling, that doesn’t mean she and I ever slowed our careers as swingers. Not at all! Our mutual avocation has always been S-E-X, of all stripes and varieties.

We’ve been to swingers conventions and resorts all across North America. We’ve had sex with singles and couples and throuples. Once on a secluded beach near Cancun, Polly took on me and four other guys in a gangbang that left both of us chuckling in happy disbelief for days.

But the episode I want to concentrate on began in a Las Vegas hotel at one of the more innocent sorts of swinger gatherings: a “meet and greet” in a hotel banquet room. Polly and I were among the first to arrive. We were hanging out with Dirk and Emmy, another couple who had become close friends. They were describing the remodeling job they’d completed on their guest house in Palm Springs when Ambrose and his partner, Annie, shyly entered the room.

Well, Annie was shy, at any rate. A slight strawberry-blonde with sweet blue eyes and a trim figure, she seemed nervous from the get-go.

Much more confident Ambrose had a smile that could charm a wildebeest and a compact, muscular body. He’d been a gymnast in college, we’d later learned. He was just the kind of rippling-muscled guy Polly really fancied.

Ambrose and Annie held each other’s hands tightly as they navigated the room. Soon they drifted our way.

Tactician that she is, Polly zeroed in immediately on Annie.

“God, that’s a pretty frock!” she told her.

My wife was right. The crisp white cotton dress accentuated Annie’s subtle curves and made me think of nothing else but what those breasts of hers would look like, feel like and taste like.

“Well, thanks for saying so,” Annie said quietly.

Polly’s eyes lit up at her response, so she continued, “You have such pretty hair and…oh, you know what?”

Polly began searching for something in her handbag.

“What’cha lookin’ for, honey?” I asked.

“I think they’re in here,” she said, still rummaging. “Yes!”

She pulled out a pair of sparkling, amber-colored earrings.

“These go just right with your hair and eyes,” said Polly, dangling the baubles beside Annie’s ears.

“They’re very nice,” Annie said. “You must tell me where you got them.”

“They’re from Mexico. Acapulco. A street fair or something. You must have them. Take them, please.”

Annie seemed as nervous as a trapped squirrel.

“I couldn’t.”

“They’re not right for me. Please, take them. They didn’t cost a peso.”

“But we don’t know you.”

“Well, we can fix that. I’m Polly, and this is my better half, Jason. And these are our friends, Dirk and Emmy. Dear, dear, old friends.”

“Don’t make us sound too decrepit, Poll,” quipped Emmy, who can be delightfully sarcastic and smart-assy.

“I’m Ambrose,” said the beaming young man. He was smiling so broadly, he seemed to be laughing. “And this is Annie.”

Polly bussed Annie on the cheek.

“There. Now, we’re all introduced. And these earrings are yours. Not another word about it. You should try them on while we talk. Look, there’s a table over there. Jase, why don’t you go claim it for us, and we can all get some drinks and sit down.”

And that’s what happened. For the next half hour or so, we all got to know one another better. Emmy and Dirk excused themselves at one point. They wanted to join some other friends who’d arrived for the meet and greet.

Our new acquaintances seemed as innocent as they were enjoyable to look at. Ambrose taught chemistry at a small college. Annie worked in the same college’s business office. They’d been together a couple of years and had been flirting for some time with the idea of getting into the lifestyle. That event was the very first time they’d dipped their toes into the pool of decadence. They’d decided to try the Las Vegas event because they were nervous about exploring anything too close to home. It was clear from the start that while Annie was possibly game, Ambrose was the one who was truly keen on the idea of swinging.

The four of us had dinner together that night and agreed to have drinks the following evening in our hotel room.

“What’s your verdict?” I asked Polly, after we’d parted company with them.

“She’s a pretty mouse. I’d love to see you ravage her. But the chances ain’t good. Mice are timid.”

“And him?”

“Total stud. My pussy has been drooling since the moment I set eyes on him. I want his cock, Jase. I want that gymnast’s dick of his.”

“You’ll have to settle for my couch-potato pecker tonight,” I teased. “Unless we want to call Dirk and Emmy, and see what they’d like to cook up.”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s do that,” answered Polly. “I love your pecker, Peter Piper. But tonight I need a whole pack of peckers, pickled or otherwise.”

So, we wound up going to a small orgy, which Dirk and Emmy hosted in their suite. Polly and I didn’t get back to our own room until after 2:30 in the morning. We woke up early that afternoon. A group of our old pals had decided to visit some casinos. We went along. But, mostly, we were looking forward to entertaining Ambrose and Annie.

When we met them in our suite for drinks, though, they seemed to have cooled to the idea of carnal playtime. Or, at any rate, Annie had cooled to it.

Polly can keep a conversation rolling with the toughest crowd. But with Ambrose and Annie, the talk over drinks was a rehash of the same conversations we’d had the previous day. At one point, Ambrose and I went out to get some vodka and ice, and I was able to pick his brain.

“So, what do you think, buddy? You and Annie up for some play? We’d love to have you join us. As you can probably tell, Polly is ready to jump your bones. She’s really into you.”

“No lie? Damn, Jason. She’s so hot. You’re a lucky guy. I’d love that. But I think things are moving too fast for Annie. She gets turned on by the idea of swinging. But the reality of it spooks her.”

“What if it’s not full swap? We could all get naked and fool around a little, but just stick with our own partners for full-on sex. A soft swap, you know?”

“Maybe. We’ve discussed that. You’re into Annie?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am. She’s gorgeous.”

“OK, maybe. We’ll see. Maybe not tonight. Maybe some other time.”

But it didn’t happen that night. Or any night. Things were even more stilted after Ambrose and I got back to the room with the fresh bottle of vodka. Our guests stayed another half hour or so, and then we exchanged contact info and said our goodbyes.

“Shit,” said Polly after they left. “Why would he bring that shrinking violet here if he knew she wasn’t up for anything? They’re out of their depth. Story over. Come fuck me, honey. I’m gushing like a mountain stream over here.”

Obedient husband that I am, I fulfilled my marital duty. It was a good fuck.

Months went by, and Polly and I were ensconced at our place in California. Our work lives were busy, and we needed to set our swinging lives aside for several weeks. It was a familiar pattern. Compartmentalizing is second nature to us.

One autumn morning, though, I was surprised to receive an email from Ambrose. It turned out he and Annie had broken up, and he’d moved out of their place to a studio apartment. Their breakup wasn’t only about the swinging thing, Ambrose wrote. But it had at least something to do with their disagreement about how open their relationship should be. Ambrose said he was going to visit his brother and sister-in-law in Santa Monica. He’d be renting a car while in California, and he thought he might swing by and visit. But only if that was OK with us.

When Polly read his email, she seemed uncomfortable.

“What’s up, Poll?”

“Oh, this just makes me out to be the most conniving person on the planet.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, Jase. The friendly thing to do would be to invite him here and have him stay over. And I’d be happy to do that. But an ethical person who was as turned on by him as I am would slam the brakes on that plan right away.”

She stared at me with a slightly forlorn frown.

“You’re overthinking things,” I told her.

“I’m sure you’re not surprised to learn that my first thought when I read that email was, ‘Yippee! He got rid of that damn mouse of his, and now Polly’s gonna get her some Ambrose peen!’”

I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulders.

“Of course I’m not surprised. But what’s even wrong with that? Do you really think he contacted us out of the blue with this news and didn’t expect a little something-something? Besides, nothing would make me happier than to have you offer him the sweet flesh he obviously craves.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s not like you did anything to break them up or lured him here with a place to stay when you had other motives. He contacted us. Go ahead. Give that peen of his the royal treatment if you get the chance.”

Not long afterward, the three of us sat in the secluded yard at our place. We relaxed on the deck beside the sparkling swimming pool. It had been a hot day, but by that point, a cool breeze was providing some relief.

“Can I get you another vodka tonic, Ambro?” Polly asked.

Polly and I had taken to calling him “Ambro” that afternoon. He was a bit of a “bro,” so the nickname seemed to fit, and he seemed to like it.

“Sure,” he said. “You guys are too good to me.”

“Oh, honey, don’t be a goose. You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks,” my wife said.

Polly was wearing a beach wrap over

her lemon yellow two-piece. She was tanned, voluptuous and irresistible. My dick had been twitching in anticipation since our guest’s arrival.

“You want another, too, Jase?”

“Bring it on,” I told her.

At that moment, the breeze swept in with a little more force, flipping up the front of our guest’s cotton shirt, exposing his midriff.

“I spy with my little eye!” said Polly.

“What do you spy?” I asked.

“A chiseled six-pack with a cute little innie of a belly button!”

Giggling, she stepped into the house to fetch the booze and ice.

Ambrose had spent considerable time telling us about his post-Annie life. But he frankly didn’t seem too sad. During our yakfest, he’d definitely given Polly the once-over or, rather, the several-times-over.

“I’m getting in the pool,” I told Ambrose.

I was wearing swimming trunks and a T-shirt. I stripped off the shirt and slipped into the cool, clean water. I swam beneath the surface for a few seconds.

When I came up for air, I told Ambrose he should join me.

“I don’t have any trunks!”

“Just wear your underwear,” I said. “Or go nude if you aren’t wearing any.”

“I’ll keep my boxers on.” 

He stripped down to his underwear. The guy was definitely a gym rat. His body was mostly hairless, and he was ripped from neck to calf. He jumped in the pool and submerged himself fully.

“This feels great!” he said after surfacing.

Just then, Polly walked out with the drinks and put them down on the table near where we’d been seated.

“Are you two skinny-dipping or what?” she called to us.

“I’m not,” I answered, “and Ambro has his skivvies on.”

“Oh, hell!” she hollered back. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Polly removed her wrap and pulled off both pieces of her yellow bikini. Her magnificent bare breasts with their erect nipples were displayed in all their glory. Her hips were pushed proudly forward, to give Ambrose and me the best view of the thick pubic thicket surrounding her pussy. Then she ran, completely naked, to the deep end of the pool. She cannonballed herself in, causing a wave of chlorinated water to rush toward us.

Polly immediately swam to the shallow end, heading straight for Ambrose. She all but tackled him. She held him tight and began French-kissing him. I doffed my trunks, threw them on the deck and tugged gently on my dick, which was quickly rising to full staff. Her hands moved to Ambrose’s flimsy boxer shorts. She pulled off his underwear, then started stroking his emancipated, underwater dong.

I watched for a while, then stepped toward the two of them. I stood behind Polly and pushed my erection against the groove of her big, beautiful ass. I nuzzled the back of her neck and gently sucked on her earlobe as she continued to stroke Ambrose.

After a few minutes, we went inside the house and headed straight to the bedroom. Ambrose’s dick was thick and hard, and its flared glans was practically glowing like a headlight, showing him the way inside my wife.

Once in the bedroom, Polly briefly slobbered on his impressive rod, then she lay back on the bed as he put on a condom to fuck her in missionary position. I sat in a chair and watched with surging animalistic lust as he mounted her.

Ambrose pumped Polly for several minutes before quickly pulling out and ripping off the condom. He groaned loudly, and thick ropes of jizz splattered across her breasts and belly. He backed off, and I barely gave her a beat to recover before thrusting my prong into her cunt. I thrust very hard and fast, and it didn’t take long before she and I came, forcefully and nearly simultaneously,

We were spent, but only for a short spell. As we rested, Ambrose confessed his trip to Santa Monica to visit his brother had been a ruse. His main reason for coming south was to hook up with us.

Ambrose shared that big bed with us that night, and we all experienced many more orgasms before we fell into a deep slumber. He ended up staying with us for three days of what seemed to be a carnal Olympiad.

He’s visited us several times since then. For his most recent trips, though, he’s brought along his new girlfriend, Constance. A buxom blonde, she is as free-spirited and direct as poor confused Annie was straitlaced and unsure.

So, instead of incredible threeways, we’ve progressed to spectacular fourways. And all parties seem perfectly fine with that.

Our advice to couples looking to keep alive the ardor in their relationships? When you want to heat things up in the bedroom, sometimes a stranger — or two — can deliver the kind of spice you just can’t find on your own!