Swinging for Beginners

The dark-skinned mountain of a  man was so tall I had to crick my neck to look at him. His lips were moving, but I was too nervous to attend to what he was saying, and made do with grinning like a maniac and nodding enthusiastically. I was strangely aware of my arms and hands, feeling awkward. I folded my arms, then realised it made me seem defensive. I poured myself my third vodka in half an hour and downed most of it in one.

‘I love new blood’, leered my hot companion. ‘’Come with me.’

I choked on my wine, half of it escaping down my nose. I tentatively took his eager, outstretched hand and followed him down the hall …

***

All relationships become stale after a while. Like a good wine that gets better with age, the nectar of love and lust still becomes corked and sour. Or, as in our case, it could just use a touch of spice to create more fizz.

Of course, some couples become true companions despite the lack of excitement in the bedroom. Lots of my friends crow, proudly, they would rather have a cup of tea than sex, and would like nothing better than to be left alone by their spouses to catch up on the latest gossip in Heat magazine. But sex is the central cog in this and every relationship I have ever had. If I can’t get no satisfaction, I stray.

I was once, during therapy, officially diagnosed as a sex addict. My psychiatrist and I searched for a group I could attend, and discovered there were only therapy sessions for men in the good old UK . Is that because it is a good thing for a lady to be ready for a romp anytime, anywhere, or because there are just not enough of us out there to form a group? I suspect the female of the species are generally repressed and hardly know their own sexuality.

I did volunteer to attend a male Sex Addicts Anonymous group, but was told that this would defeat the object!

So, I decided to embrace my sexuality and not fight it.

Mikey was a gift from the Gods of Sensuality. Fit, with a defined body and larger than average in the trouser department, it was lust at first sight. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and for the first year we had sex practically every night we were together. Still after five years together we made love often and passionately.

However, even the most imaginative of lovers reach this impasse, when every tweak, poke and rub, can be predicted. And then the time has come to add that chilli to the proverbial moet.

***

Now, following the handsome stranger down the corridor, hoping he couldn’t feel how sweaty my palms were, I reminded myself I was doing this for the sake of our relationship. We hadn’t come to the decision lightly. In fact, it was I that had been dead set against it when Mikey had first made the suggestion.

‘But what could you possibly get out of shagging a stranger that you couldn’t experience with me?’ I was extremely miffed, as I had always been proud of being more open minded and adventurous than most. I was willing to try anything to liven up our more intimate moments. Bondage. Toys.  Even more deviant practices. But for the past year our unions had been strictly vanilla and I felt my talents were not being to put to their full use.

But a swingers’ party?

Hurt and confused, I gave him the silent treatment for days. Why did he want to fuck other women? Was I not enough for him? How would I cope watching him with another woman, or even knowing he is in another room doing things to someone else he used to do to me once upon a time, until complacency set in?

Gradually, with much coaxing and groveling from Mikey, I began listening to his arguments. We could try it once and see if we liked it. Neither of us would play with anyone without the agreement of the other. And, the clincher for me, we could turn each other on relating our adventures to each other.

So, not one to party-poop, I agreed that if he found a one, I would go with him. To which he immediately produced details of a local bash (or should that be bang!) that so happened to be taking place the following weekend.

Having accepted my side of the bargain, my only quandary remaining was what to wear. Does one dress for a normal party, and take something naughty to change into? Or does everyone just get naked on the doorstep? I didn’t want to be too conservative in my shift dress and pearls, but turning up looking like a slut while everyone else was dressed in jeans and enjoying finger food before the action started would be equally embarrassing. What was the etiquette at gang-bangs?

I settled on a mid-length wrap (easy access) dress with a black basque underneath and sheer stockings. Mikey decided to wear his jeans with his favourite ‘bigger bulge’ jockey shorts.

In the car outside the designated address, we peered up at the window. Disco lights were flashing and we could hear the faint beat of house music. Surely it should be soft lighting and Barry White?

Plucking up the courage to ring the bell, we were mortified to discover we were the first to arrive. Did we look too keen? Too desperate?

The host was wearing nothing but a pair of very tight jockey shorts, a huge package and a smile. The hostess was intimidating, beautiful in a see through body, stockings and thigh length boots.

We were greeted as though we had arrived at a tea party, and the hostess brought our drinks, offered sandwiches, sponge cake. As she chatted to us and explained what we should expect, I had difficulty keeping my eyes off her very visible, very pendulous breasts which hung inches from my face every time she filled our glasses with vodka. Glancing at Mikey I was amused to discover he didn’t know where to look. A huge TV screen played an inter-racial porn film. The attic beam had panties hanging its entire length (souvenirs from past parties we were to learn). Dishes overflowing with condoms were everywhere, and it was explained that unsafe sex had zero tolerance in the swinging world.

Pride of place in the living room hung a huge swing with stirrups.

‘What’s that for?’ I asked, feeling naive, but thinking it would be rude not to mention it as it was rather the focus of the room.

‘That ‘s the Love Swing,’ explained our handsome host. ‘Let me show you how it works. It’s an experience you will never forget.’ Very tempted at this dark stranger’s invitation, I glanced at Mikey’s horrified expression and had to decline.

What was with him? He was the one who had nagged and pleaded to come to a party, now he was turning coy and prudish.

Our hosts had to leave us to let more guests in, and the change in Mikey was instantaneous as two gorgeous, semi-naked girls walked in, giggling. He was standing to attention in every sense. ‘Oooh a Love Swing!’ The brunette climbed on while her blonde friend helped put her feet in the stirrups, running her hands up and down her legs suggestively.

‘Come and try it. It’s wicked,’ she smiled at Mikey over her shoulder. Raising his eyebrows at me, my shrug was all the encouragement he needed to rip his jeans off and join the girls. As I moved to the kitchen fighting jealousy and a sense of injustice, my last sight was of my boyfriend’s lily white ass bobbing without rhythm as he tried to time his thrusting with the swing’s momentum .

***

Aren’t you a bit overdressed?’  Asked the dark stranger now, his voice liquid chocolate. Not saying a word I undid the ties of my dress, holding his eyes with a suggestive wink. Letting it fall into a pool around my feet, my heart pounded as his eyes ran over my body. His large, strong hands squeezed my arse, my tits, which he lifted out of the cups of my basque and sucked enthusiastically. All nervousness left my body as lust took over.

Taking off his underwear, his tool sprung from his pants proud and large, illustrating the black stereotype. He bent to kiss me.

‘Hey – what’s happening?’ A deep voice startled me, making me jump.

‘We have a new lady here tonight we have to look after. Tell the guys to make her very welcome.’ He winks, brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, ‘Is it OK if my friend joins us?’

Well, despite being a sexoholic, I have never had the following:

Threesome – mmf

Threesome – fmf

Anal (my ass is for exit only)

Lesbian sex

This could be my only chance to fulfill a fantasy.

The second guy was equally well-endowed, tall and muscular. ‘Of course he can join us,’ I purred, holding my hand out to grab his manhood.

I admit to getting very carried away, even to the point of achieving the elusive female ejaculation  - three times! I had never even thought it possible, thinking it a clever camera trick on the You Tube clips that had been sent to me in the past. But, trust me girls, it does happen!

At some point another guy entered the melee. I have a vague recollection of him asking to be invited, and my cries of ‘Yes, yes!’ must have been all the evidence he needed that he was welcome.

An hour later I stumbled half-naked from the room, all modesty forgotten. Sex noises came from every room, In the kitchen I felt I the way as I reached over a girl giving head to reach the vodka.

Exploring the other rooms, the mix of people was amazing. Middle-aged couples, with matching saggy boobs, chatted amidst lithe young bodies writhing on a huge circular bed. A man in his thirties pleasured himself while watching his wife being ravished by one of my earlier partners who winked at me over her shoulder.  I smiled, grateful for the acknowledgement.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned to look into the face of a slim Chinese lady. Her doll-like face made it difficult to determine her age. She was petite, with small pert breasts. ‘Come and join us.’ She indicated the centre of the circular bed where a nucleus of bodies swelled and contracted as one. Such a tangle of limbs it was difficult to tell where one body ended and another began.

I knocked back the rest of my vodka, took doll-face by the hand and dove straight in. Kissing men, women, having the attention of both. Soft, pliant bodies mixing with those harder and stronger. There was the sound of enjoyment all around me. The sound of ecstasy. A mixture of perfumes half masked the naturally salty smell of mating heomosapians.

And I loved it!

My utopian bubble was burst abruptly by a terse tapping on my shoulder. ‘Hi Mikey,’ I sighed dreamily. ‘You having a good time?’

‘Of course. But we have to go. Baby-sitter.’ And he turned on his heel and strutted away, jacket over his arm. A bit abrupt, I thought. But I would let it go. No point spoiling such a wonderful evening with a silly tiff. I was so glad Mikey had suggested this.

As I made myself decent, I grew excited by the great sex Mikey and I were bound to have later as we told our sexy stories.

It was 2am and I hugged myself against the frosty night, waiting for the car windscreen to clear.

‘So – how did you get on?’ I asked, a big grin pasted on my face.

‘Not as well as you, it would seem!’

‘What do you mean?’ smothering a smile, I sensed he was not happy.

‘Three guys, babe? I mean three guys?’ his annoyance was obvious. He must have come looking for me and observed my surreal experience.

‘Hey – when I left you, you were with two girls. What’s the difference?’

Sheepishly he explained how he had been unable to perform. ‘They didn’t turn me on like you do, hun.’ He almost whined. ‘I spent the rest of the night drinking coke and waiting for you.’ He took my hand, grinning. ‘Do you realize how difficult it is to chill with a drink when some girl is trying to give you a blow job?’

I laughed cautiously, unsure of his mood.

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ His anxious face told me all I needed to know.

‘It was OK I suppose.’

‘Not for us though, babe.’ He said, relaxing visibly. ‘We don’t need other people to teach us what we already know.’

I smiled indulgently as I remembered my experience, the memory of which would excite and delight for a very long time to come.