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Jealousy leads a sub to get punished.

The truth is, folks, that I get very horny when I mix liquor and weed. Knowing that, why would I do it when alone? Well, it's because I get very horny when I mix liquor and weed.

Hubby and I have been swingers for some time and this wouldn't be my first rodeo as a third with another couple. After all, that's what these journals are about, isn't it?

He was Jack. She was Jill. I shit you not!

Making room for me to sit between them at the bar, Jill pulled out my barstool so that I could sit. Catching the bartender's attention, Jill ordered a round for us, moved her barstool a bit closer to mine and sat down, on my right.

We exchanged 'bar-bios', short-to-the-point recaps of who we were, with each other. They were in their early thirties, married, childless by choice at this point, and with good careers. Periodically, they said, they liked to go out on the town, and "push the envelope", no explanation given but, then, none was needed. I knew where they were coming from, pretty much, when she asked to buy me a drink. The more we talked, the more I was convinced that I was right, that they were going to try to pick me up for some three-way fun in bed. Took me but a nano-second to think of that as a good thing. He was good-looking, appeared in shape, and she was very sexy in some undefined way.

"And with the traveling that both hubby and I do in our jobs," I said as I finished my bio, "we've found some common ground that has opened our relationship greatly," smiling at them both after I said it, finishing my wine afterwards.

"Open, loving relationships are a good thing," Jill said, Jack nodding in agreement, "ours is such," she said, moving her legs at the same time so that they brushed mine.

"Closed-mindedness usually results in stifling relationships," I offered to the conversation, my legs returning the pressure from hers.

"I couldn't agree more," Jill responded, laying a hand, casually, on my arm, on the bar, slowly stroking her fingertips up and down my hand and wrist.

I have to say that between the wine, the weed, and the moment, I felt my horny motor kick into drive. Leaning back into my barstool's back, I looked at Jill and smiled what I hoped was a smile of encouragement.

"Want to come to our place?" Jill asked, smilingly, her fingertips still stroking my forearm.

Looking to her, then to Jack, I replied.

"Or, as an alternative, we could simply go up to my room, order drinks, and maybe share a doobie while we get to know each other a little better."

"Or," Jill answered for them both, "we could do that, what you said," her lips placing a gentle kiss to my cheek, afterwards.

Drinks delivered, doubles for us all, doobie rolled, we settled in on the couch in the anteroom of my junior suite.

I fired up the joint, took a huge hit(which I really didn't need at this point), and passed it to Jill, who did the same before passing it to Jack.

"Wow," was all that either of them could say as they savored the potent herb.

"I have to say, I haven't been this stoned since college," Jack said after we had finished the joint.

We sat there, savoring the stone that was enveloping the three of us, each in our own fog, the room quiet.

"Jack's got a big dick," Jill blurted suddenly, catching us all by surprise.

"Oops," she quickly said afterwards.

"Big dicks are not a bad thing," I replied in earnest, "hubby's well endowed as well."

"Can you deep-throat big dicks?" Jill asked brazenly.

"I've been known to swallow monster-meat," I smilingly replied.

And then, she kissed me.

She kissed me suddenly, her lips warm, wet, experienced and her hand cupping my breast with soft, gentle squeezes which caused my nipples to harden.

I kissed her back, letting my own hand fly to her breasts, first through her blouse, but, quickly, into her blouse, my hand cupping her larger breasts, her nipples hardening in response to my touches.

I opened my mouth to accept her tongue, sucking on it with wanton lust as she moved her hand between my opening legs, letting her fingers find my burning, damp pussy.

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