I promised a story, and OP is going to deliver.
I took my shitlady to a swingers party at a very nice house we knew about. The place has it all; lots of comfy rooms, a dance floor, open bar and pool. High fences to keep out nosy neighbors and plenty of secluded play rooms. Everything needed to have a blast on a weekend.
My wife is fit and decked out in a super slutty red getup that doesn't cover much, topped off with stiletto heels that would be confiscated in two seconds by the TSA as lethal weapons. A bit about her. She's leggy, petite and has a great rack. She also is a shitlady. When she dresses for these events she wears pink or red catsuits because she knows that fatties always go for the black leather corset look. So the fatties stand around looking like bloated Elviras while she shimmies and flirts outrageously. It's a great strategy and always works.
Because hams tend to ruin parties, including adult only parties, it's not uncommon for us to come up empty when looking for a woman or couple to play with. Ah well. We're fit and energetic, so we just go to town on each other and have a good time. For anyone who doesn't know, fatties don't really DO anything at orgys. At regular parties they just shuffle around the food table looking awkward and making uncomfortable conversation that centers around their various medical condushions. At swinger parties they do the exact same thing, only with less clothes. They don't tell jokes, play party games, dance or make fascinating conversation. The best you can hope for is that they don't eat off your plate.
At this party it looked like the hams were winning out, so we moved out by the pool. My babe strips to the buff and starts splashing around with a few non-fat guys while I lounge around looking for any woman who weighs less than I do. No luck. After a bit, now that she's worked up, she gets out of the pool and pulls me into the cabana next to the pool.
THIS is where the shameful story starts. The cabana is a one room structure by the pool. It's open at one end facing the pool, and the three walls are lined with overstuffed sofas. The whole place is lit by candlelight and music is playing through the sound system. In other words, a great little oasis for some fun. My shitlady backs me up to a sofa and pushes me backward so I sprawl on the cushions. She quickly yanks off my trunks (swim trunks. All I was wearing at this point) and then steps between my legs forcing them apart. I see where this is going and grin from ear to ear. She gives me a hot, wet kiss and then slides to her knees. I lean back my head and thank the Almighty for whatever good thing I did in a past life that is rewarding me so well in this one.
Then I feel something on my neck. Something that shouldn't be there. My babe is going to town on me and 99% of my attention is on her, but the 1% is telling me that something is wrong. Someone is kissing and sucking on my neck! I turn and to my horror realize that what I thought was an empty sofa piled with plump pillows was actually a sofa containing a huge woman wearing a mumu. When my wife pushed me backward, she accidentally plopped me up against this mountain of lard that had been hiding in the candlelight like a lonely trapdoor spider.
Shitlady immediately senses something is wrong. Either because I'd stopped breathing or because my manhood tried crawling into my abdomen. She looks up, sees what is going on and is torn between fright and laughter. Grabbing her hand I got out of there faster than a refugee fleeing Syria. The only action I saw that night was with a bottle as I tried to erase the memory of those slimy lips gnawing my flesh. Ghaaa!