By Ernest Winchester
Copyright 2011 By Ernest Winchester
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I leaned forward slightly to better see myself in the vanity mirror as I applied the black makeup to my eyes. ‘Go lightly, Sabrina,’ I reminded myself again as I had a minute earlier as I applied the brush to my eyelashes. The pencil created a thin line along my lower eyelid. I knew that certain actions before the night was over would probably cause my eyes to water greatly and I didn’t want to look like a raccoon when the mascara was flushed out, though it wouldn’t be the first time. Deep throating a man can do that. My tongue came out reflexively as I imagined the taste of cock it undoubtedly would be enjoying. But the question was, whose cock would it be? Of the four men who would be attending the soirée only three were possible as my evening’s consort. The hard rule was, no woman was to go home with her own husband, why else would we call it a mate swapping party?