Swinger Wives Are Sluts Ch. 02

Friday morning

"Hey brother wake up," Dustin said kicking my bed.

"Stop yelling," I replied holding my forehead.

"I wasn't," Dustin answered in a pained voice.

I looked around slowly. Busted beer bottles were scattered all over the hotel room. One of the two mattresses was flipped off of the bed springs. What surprised me most was toothpaste all over the windows.

"Dude I'm hung over as fuck," Dustin said.

"So am I, did we go anywhere after I fucked that swinger?" I asked.

Dustin answered with a solemn expression, "no man, we came back here."

"Dude it's no big deal. We can fuck another one tonight and you'll feel better," I stated angrily.

I was too hung over to listen to him sulk like a bitch.

"Bro, I don't feel like going back there."

"That's bullshit! We're definitely going back there now you pussy so you can get your balls back," I shouted making my own head hurt.

"We'll see, but what do you want to do until then?" Dustin asked.

"Let's blow some money."

"Where?" He asked.

"I need some better clothes for tonight."

"Okay then what?"

"Strip club?"

"Strip club!" Dustin shouted making both of our heads hurt even worse.

We drove to the mall so I could buy some clothes and get food. After that we headed to our sanctuary, titty bars.

Allow me to enlighten those of you who have never had the twisted pleasure of visiting a strip club during the day. Good strippers are naturally creatures of the night, so any girl working during the day is average at best. They are usually the girls who can't make money at night. Stretch marks, bullet wounds, and ghetto tattoos are normal on day workers. If you ever wanted to witness two skanks fighting over a shiny nickel just visit a strip club during the day.

The girls immediately sensed cash on us when we walked in. It could have been because I was wearing new clothes, or because of the case of beer we carried with us. Obviously, we looked like rock stars compared to the regular pedophile demographic of day visitors.

We sat near the empty stage and waited for the next performance. The second rate D.J. called out a generic name. Moments later a cracked out whore stepped on stage. Her sparkling blue bikini didn't hide much because there wasn't much to hide. Cocaine and crack obviously took a toll on her nonexistent tits. Her ass was just as flat.

"How is that bikini even staying on her hips?" Dustin said loud enough she could hear. He has always loved fat girls, so this skinny bitch scared him.

She was as thin as the pole she twirled around. Her lips moved to the words of the rap song blaring across the sound system. As she spun again her hand slid down the pole making her completely bend over. The sight made me gag. Dustin had other things in mind though. He pulled out a stack of ones and started to fold them into tiny football triangles.

"First one to flick it and hit her in the face wins," he proudly challenged.

"You're on bitch!" I yelled glad to see his enthusiasm return.

Dustin flicked one which went wide, but was close enough to catch her undivided attention. She dropped slowly to her hands and knees then crawled towards our table trying to earn a few dollars. I flicked one well short. Dustin flicked another which hit her shoulder.

"Hey!" She said surprised.

"Stop moving," Dustin shouted.

"That's not very nice," she replied sitting back on her heels.

Dustin asked folding another dollar, "do you want money or not?"

I flicked one that flew over her head.

She sat back, "what are you trying to do?"

"Hit your face," said Dustin seriously.

"That's mean!" She replied.

Dustin shrugged then flicked another one that hit her squarely on the nose. He jumped out of his seat hopping around with his hands above his head in victory.

"I win mother fucker!" He yelled proudly.

The stripper watched him with a confused expression drawn across her face. Another song started while Dustin jumped around. She moved away to work the pole again. A fat man waddled to the stage and kept her attention for the rest of her set.

We went back to drinking and insulting every woman within eye sight. After the skinny stripper's time on stage ended, she grabbed her bikini and marched straight to our table without even bothering to get dressed. The look on her face gave away her emotions.

"That wasn't very nice," she said standing at our table with her hands on her narrow hips.

"So, we gave you money didn't we?" Dustin replied.

"You can get kicked out for that ya know," she stated seriously.

"Then we'll take our beer and cash to the strip club down the street. We could even walk there from here," I said calmly.

No bitch was going to try to scare us into behaving.

She put on her clothes while standing at our table then sat down in one of the empty seats. "So what are your names?"

I pointed at Dustin, "this is Josh and my name is Mike."

"My name is Ashley," she said without being asked.

"That's nice," said Dustin obviously not interested.

"Why are you two so mean?" Ashley asked.

"Because nice guys get treated like shit," I answered.

"No they don't!" Ashley exclaimed.

We laughed in her face, "yes they do."

"Girls just don't like pushovers," she conceded.

A waitress walked over, "would you like to buy this lovely lady a drink?"

"Hell no," answered Dustin quickly.

I couldn't stop laughing as the waitress and the stripper both stared blankly at Dustin.

"Why not?" The stripper asked finally.

"Because you aren't cute and I don't buy drinks for girls I'm not fucking."

She stood up and stomped away angrily. My hysterical laughter followed her as fast as the waitress. We expected the manager to be at our table within two minutes. He never came over.

We continued to watch girls try to make money. Eventually, we got hungry enough to leave in search of food. The strip club had a lunch menu but only an idiot would eat food at a nasty titty bar.

We went back to the hotel long enough for Dustin to take a shit then we headed off to find food in downtown Nashville. We stopped by a place in the middle of the bar scene called Jack's BBQ. Honestly, they served the best ribs ever. After we ate we decided to bar hop until dark. The best thing about Nashville is that live music is available regardless of what time it is. We spent five hours going from bar to bar requesting Hank Williams songs and pounding beers. We could barely walk by the time the Swinger's club was open.

"Dude, I don't think we should go," Dustin said as we waited for a taxi.

"Shut the hell up. Stop being nervous, bitch, you'll be fine."

He said angrily, "okay, but if I can't get hard I'm leaving."

Dustin sat sulking the entire taxi ride to the club. I laughed at his nervousness since he is the same guy who humped a fat chick while talking to his aunt on the phone.

The fat whale woman greeted us at the door after we stopped to get condoms and beer.

"I guess y'all had fun last night if you're back tonight," mentioned the fat bitch with a grin.

"Damn right we had fun," I said grabbing another membership form to fill out.

"Honey, you only have to fill those out once. Now you're a member," she said taking our cash and letting us in.

"I feel special now," Dustin said sarcastically.

I gave him a dirty look. I actually did feel a little special. It was nice being part of a club where I got to bang wives without getting in trouble. After we paid, we got a bucket of ice from grandpa bartender then sat at the same booth as before.

The club filled faster since it was a Friday night. We drank while we watched couples meet and mingle. After an hour it was impossible to know who was married to whom, but one woman kept our attention. She swayed seductively on the dance floor. Over the course of 30 minutes, she danced with several men, but never longer than two songs. Her small waist moved in a hypnotic rhythm begging every man to stare. A long flowing skirt bounced slightly as she moved. Her sparkling shirt matched the skirt's shade of blue perfectly making it almost look like she was wearing a dress.

"I'm going to go dance with her," I said eagerly.

"Have fun," Dustin replied sulking.

Walking behind her, I slid my hand across her waist. She turned and wrapped her arms around my neck inviting me to dance with her. I tried to wave Dustin over but he was talking to an old man. I shrugged and went back to enjoying the dance on the dark floor. Another song started before Dustin joined us.

"Your husband said I should come dance with you," he said walking up to her.

She smiled, "good."

I pulled her closer with intentions of making her my personal slam piece for the evening.

"Do you two want to go somewhere more private?" She asked grabbing my cock through my jeans.

"Let's go," I said in a determined tone.

She took my hand walking us off of the dance floor. Her husband made his way to us as we stepped back onto the carpeted area.

"Ready to go?" He asked casually.

"I want to take both of these hunks."

Dustin and I looked at each other in disbelief. It was amazing how easy it was to get laid in a swinger's club. I sincerely suggest looking up one in your area. She let go of my hand and looked at Dustin.

"Is it okay if we go back to our hotel?" She asked running her hands down Dustin's chest. "I want a place with a little privacy."

Dustin looked at me, "what do you think bro?"

"Sure, why the hell not."

She looked happy. She took both of our hands leading us to the exit, "did you drive?"

"No, we took a taxi," Dustin said.

"Well then we'll give you two a ride."

We followed her husband out to a late 80's model car.

"Hold on, let me move some things out of the back seat," The Husband said as he opened one of the doors to the coupe.

I heard trash get pushed around as his wife kissed Dustin in the streetlight. While she made out with Dustin, I tried to get a good look at her. She was much older than the dark club led me to believe. Lines heavily creased her face, yet her body moved with ease.

"Okay, we can go now," The Husband said satisfied with his efforts.

He held the driver's seat forward so Dustin and I could climb in. The sound of plastic bottles and old newspapers crumpled under our shoes as we piled into the back seat. Any romantic fantasies died in the car's cigarette stench.

"So tell us about yourselves," she said as we drove in their dirty car.

"Well my name is Jason and this is Ralph," I said pointing from myself to Dustin.

"How old are you two?" She asked keeping the conversation alive.

"I'm 23 and he's 22." Dustin replied. "How old are you?"

She laughed responding; "you two are youngins. He's 51 and I'm 47."

"Wow you don't look that old," I lied.

"Thank you sweetheart!"

"So you're a milf," Dustin assumed.

"What's that?" She asked.

"A mother I'd like to fuck."

Her laughter echoed throughout the car.

"Actually I have a kid who has a kid," she said when she finished laughing.

"Whoa whoa whoa...you're a grandma?" Dustin gasped in an astonished tone.

"Ewww, I don't like being called grandma," she said with a disgusted look on her face.

"But that's what you are right?" Dustin said seeking an answer.

"Yes, but I feel too young to be one," Grandma said.

The rest of the 15 minute car ride blurred by as I contemplated the fact we were about to have sex with a grandmother while her husband watched.

"We're here," she said happily.

We followed the couple up concrete stairs to their room. The cheap motel had doors open to the road without an enclosed hallway. It was surprisingly clean for a motel. The tiny room had a king sized bed occupying the majority of the space. End tables flanked each side of the bed. An older television sat a few feet away. The bathroom light flashed on at the back of the room. The Husband disappeared into the bathroom closing the door behind him. Grandma turned on a lamp and sat on the bed.

A smile played across her lips, "who wants to have fun?"

Dustin's hesitation showed nervousness, so I took the lead. She sat back on the bed with me.

"I want to watch," Dustin said stepping back.

"Mmm, I hope you want to play too," Grandma replied.

Before he answered, I pushed Grandma slowly back kissing her. My hands found the bottom of her flowing skirt and pushed it up slowly. She happily parted her legs for easier access. Our clothes piled onto the floor within moments. She climbed on top giving me a perfect view of her sagging breasts.

She moaned, "mmm you look good."

"You look pretty sexy yourself," I replied as my hands traced down her naked body.

She handed me a condom, "put this on sweetheart."

I finished gift wrapping my present then I shoved it into her chimney.

"Damn, that looks like it feels good," The Husband's voice caught me off guard.

I glanced up and saw him standing in the bathroom door way wearing only tight white underwear. My eyes shot back to Grandma before the sight made me lose my hard on.

"Do you want a turn?" She asked Dustin as he watched.

"I don't know," Dustin replied nervously.

"Come here sweetheart," she said to Dustin between moans.

We stopped screwing so she could give her attention to Dustin. She crawled across the bed and grabbed his belt. His pants dropped quickly when her expert fingers undid the zipper and button. Before he could protest, her mouth was furiously working on his limp dick. I expected Dustin to disappoint another old bitch. I was wrong. Within a few seconds his dick was banging the back of her throat. He looked down with a surprised expression. His dick finally decided to party! A new look dawned on Dustin's face. Fire burned in his eyes showing only one emotion... redemption.

I moved out of the way quickly as he threw her back onto her bed. Porn star Dustin was born that night. Their bodies twisted into every position imaginable. He fucked that grandma until she begged him to stop. Then he fucked her some more. Ever since then when Dustin describes a good night of sex he uses the term, "I went grandma on that slut."

After Dustin destroyed her pussy, we quietly left the motel and called a taxi to take us back to downtown Nashville. The rest of that night was a dedicated celebration.

Saturday morning

My eyes opened to the worst hangover I have ever had. Every movement was painful and every moment felt like it should be my last. The dim light through the curtains cut into my eyes like lasers. Each heartbeat sounded like a stereo.

"Waatteerr...." I gasped stumbling to the bathroom.

I turned on the faucet and drank from it without bothering to look for a cup.

"Daaa," Dustin groaned from the floor. I looked over and noticed him lying next to the toilet. His arms were wrapped around it in a lover's embrace.

"I hate tequila," I whispered slowly making my way back to the bed for more sleep, yet it never came.

The pain settled into a dull ache after an hour of agony.

"Dude let's go get food," I suggested.

Dustin slowly got to his feet using the bath tub and sink as handles to help him rise. "I want some waffles and orange juice."

"Dude, don't say waffles. I might puke," I groaned.

It took us almost 30 minutes to get composed enough to leave the nice hotel. Dustin and I slowly climbed into a taxi and went to the place designed for hangovers, Waffle House. If you don't know what smother, covered, chunked means then you obviously weren't raised in the south. We were ready for another day of debauchery after an hour of eating and insulting our ugly waitress.

Nashville is a playground during the day if you are a music fan. Bar after bar got invaded as we searched for the coldest beer and best bartender with big tits. It was the first time I have ever been kicked out of a bar before 3 p.m. but that place deserved it.

When the sun set, we found ourselves offering a homeless woman five dollars to flash her nasty boobies. After a long debate and threats of violence, she pulled her shirt up scaring an entire family of tourists who happened to be walking by. It was money well spent in my opinion.

"Are we going to the club again tonight?" Dustin asked as we headed to another bar.

I shook my head, "na, we already had fun there."

"Good."

We ate again and set out on our last night of adventures seeking a new environment.

Sunday morning

Dustin shook me once forcing me to open my eyes. I looked around realizing I was laying back in the hotel room.

"What the hell?" I said in complete confusion.

"Are you okay dumbass?" Dustin asked with genuine concern.

"Ya bro, I'm fine," I said sitting up.

Dustin replied, "I'm glad you're still alive fucker."

"What the hell happened last night? I've never blacked out so many times in my life."

Dustin sat on the end table next to the bed and shared the story, "you blacked out last night. We decided to go to some real clubs instead of go back to the meat market. We were drinking and you started talking to some hot blonde. You two were dancing and following each other around for like two hours bro. You were so drunk I couldn't even understand you. Then she gave you some pill. You took it like a dumbass!"

"No fucking way," I said without any recollection.

He started talking again, "she started throwing up everywhere then left with another girl. We left before you started doing the same."

"Did I throw up?" I asked.

"Hell yeah you did bro, all over the place. Then we got back here and you started chugging water and blaring music loud as fuck. Next thing I know you're trying to order porn on the television. I fell asleep and when I woke up you weren't here. I heard banging on the front door. I opened it and you straight fell on your face into the room. You were outside fucking naked pounding on the door with your head."

"Dude, you're lying," I said astonished.

"Bro, I swear that's what happened," Dustin finished in a deadly serious tone.

I rubbed my head and tried to remember the last 18 hours, but could only draw a blank. To this day Dustin swears that's what happened. I still don't remember any of it.

"We have to get out of here dude," said Dustin looking at the time.

We packed our things and left without checking out. I spent the entire car ride home trying to remember any part of the previous night.

"Dude when will you be back from war?" Dustin asked when he dropped me off at my sister's house.

I answered grabbing my bag, "another three or four months."

"Well good luck and let's party when you get back."

"You fucking know it brother," I said closing the car door.

Dustin drove back to his factory job. I walked into the house prepared to return to Afghanistan for the rest of my tour.