DirrrtyDanny
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 2, 2017
- Posts
- 615
The app was horribly understated. Poor visual appeal. Little in the way of clever site design or user-friendly artwork. Understated to the point that it could have been a review site for children's bucket swings in various playgrounds for the uninitiated, instead of a site designed to hook up couples for bucket LIST swing nights. Not that Owen knew much of anything about that sort of thing. Normally he avoided the internet, and apps in general. Mel was the savvy one about tech things (though Owen had lobbied unsuccessfully several times that Tig-welding was a 'tech' thing.)
He was on the app store only because they had discussed finding some hookups locally after catching their breath in bed the night before, and truth be told, Owen was thinking fondly of their lovemaking, images flashing through his mind. He was in danger of thinking with his penis... he felt a little sheepish about that, but shrugged it off. Guys were visual creatures, right?
It was rare that Owen was as distracted as this in the garage, but it was also rare that he and Melissa talked so openly about adding anyone to their bed. Sure, they joked about it occasionally, but this had been... more. Owen was looking, seeing if this idea of swapping, or swinging was as hot as some of the porn they occasionally shared... Mel had him all fired up (...and also -- the early Cosworth he'd been working on had Owen about ready to throw it out the window.) On a 'break' from welding the frame and patching what others had decided wasn't worth patching (rebuilding from the ground up, really..) he had reluctantly picked up his phone to see if there was anything even remotely like what they had discussed the previous evening. He bookmarked the app / page / address-thingy, and sent a link to Mel, accompanied by a simple "?" text. He was no expert, but the site seemed to have lots of Craigslist-style personals, many of them close by (and more than a bit intriguing.) It had him buzzing a little and he promptly decided that maybe enough was enough and left the garage.
Owen shut things down in the garage, and walked the short distance to the house, entering via the back door and using the sink in the mud room to clean the grease off his hands. He pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and walked into their small living room, shirt in his hand, grease under his fingernails, sweat sheen like a prize fighter. "Hello, Missy... you in here, Love?..."
He was on the app store only because they had discussed finding some hookups locally after catching their breath in bed the night before, and truth be told, Owen was thinking fondly of their lovemaking, images flashing through his mind. He was in danger of thinking with his penis... he felt a little sheepish about that, but shrugged it off. Guys were visual creatures, right?
It was rare that Owen was as distracted as this in the garage, but it was also rare that he and Melissa talked so openly about adding anyone to their bed. Sure, they joked about it occasionally, but this had been... more. Owen was looking, seeing if this idea of swapping, or swinging was as hot as some of the porn they occasionally shared... Mel had him all fired up (...and also -- the early Cosworth he'd been working on had Owen about ready to throw it out the window.) On a 'break' from welding the frame and patching what others had decided wasn't worth patching (rebuilding from the ground up, really..) he had reluctantly picked up his phone to see if there was anything even remotely like what they had discussed the previous evening. He bookmarked the app / page / address-thingy, and sent a link to Mel, accompanied by a simple "?" text. He was no expert, but the site seemed to have lots of Craigslist-style personals, many of them close by (and more than a bit intriguing.) It had him buzzing a little and he promptly decided that maybe enough was enough and left the garage.
Owen shut things down in the garage, and walked the short distance to the house, entering via the back door and using the sink in the mud room to clean the grease off his hands. He pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and walked into their small living room, shirt in his hand, grease under his fingernails, sweat sheen like a prize fighter. "Hello, Missy... you in here, Love?..."
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