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Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger

By: QuazarMachismo



NOTE: This is the start of a book that I wrote of our (mostly) true adventures in swinging. I hope you find at least some of our adventures humorous.



Prologue: Before We Get Started, Please Buckle Up!

So. 

This is the beginning.

Of the book. 

About swinging. 

No not the jazz dancing kind of swinging. 

The other kind of swinging.

You know. 

The kind where your wife has sex with someone who isn't you? That kind of swinging. Well, I guess it could be your husband as well. Your boyfriend? Girlfriend? How about we say your spouse? Significant other? The person that you regularly bang is, um, banging someone else. Like a drum. They're banging some stranger into next week. They're fucking so hard that their teeth are chattering. The van is a rockin so don't come a knockin.

That kind of swinging. 

Sorry if you didn't know that.

Did you really not know that? 

I mean, come on. How many goddamn books about jazz dancing could there really be? Like six? Tops? And haven't they all been written already?

On the other hand, you really can't have enough books about sex.

Sex, sex sex!!!! Fucking. There. I typed fucking again. I hope you're not offended by the word. 

Because this book is gonna use a lot of it.

Could you really be offended by foul language? I mean, the book is about SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE! YOUR WIFE SCREWING THE SHIT OUT OF ANOTHER GUY!

Sorry for shouting, but if you haven't gotten the gist of this book yet, well, then you're an idiot. Put the book down and go away. Really.

For the rest of you. . . hmmmmm. . . now where was I.

Oh yeah, we're at the beginning.

This is a story. Well, my story. Strike that. Our story. You know, of me and my wife. Our story of swinging. We've had quite a few adventures. And by adventures, I mean some really, really, REALLY weird shit. 

Really.

This is my attempt to tell you about some of it. 

The weird shit.

The adventures.

So buckle up campers. It's gonna get strange.

Chapter 1: In the Beginning There Was Porn. And it Was Good.

So, here's a question for you. Does every guy dream of fucking someone else? I mean, someone who isn't their wife? 

When does that thought first enter a guy's head? 

Is it after years of marriage? 

Is it only a few years after marriage? 

On your honeymoon?

Before you even get married? 

Your second date? Well, if it's on your second date then perhaps you shouldn't really be with her. That person. Whatever.

When I was younger, I thought about fucking other women. Not right away mind you. But I did. I mean, who doesn't? You're walking down the street and you see a hot woman in a tight little pair of shorts and think, "Man, I'd like to fuck the shit out of that!" But, uh, in a non-creepy way. Really.

Anyway.

What about women? Do they dream about fucking guys other than their husbands or boyfriends? Do women think about it a lot? Obviously my wife thought about it. Hell, she did it. Well, eventually she did it. But did she think about it only because I brought it up or was it because she was thinking about it on her own? OR maybe she thought that she was thinking about it on her own when in reality she was only thinking that she was thinking about it because I made her think it.

Whoa. That was a Keanau Reeves moment.

I mean, I did bring it up. With her.

How? Stories. You know what I'm talking about. When you're in the middle of some major love making and you start bringing up fantasies. Talking about what you'd like to do to the other person. Or with the other person. Or other people. Hell, whatever you want. I mean, it's your fucking fantasy.

"Mmmmm, honey, imagine that me and another guy were both sliding our big hard cocks into you at the same time. . . would you like that?"

You know that kind of stuff.

Do I remember what I said? Nope. But it got me worked up. And it definitely got Anne worked up.

That's my wife. Anne. 

She's hot! I'm not just saying that because she's my wife. Well, maybe partially. No. No really she is a very attractive woman. And that definitely helps in the world of swinging. Because swinging, like the rest of reality, doesn't like ugly chicks. 

Well, not without some beer. Ok, a LOT of beer.

So Anne is my wife. Me? I'm Eric. And together we're Anne and Eric! Just two young kids with a dream. To fuck.

Anyway, I started telling Anne these stories while having sex. Mind you, this was when we were first dating. Telling stories. Having fantastic 'date' sex. It was pretty fucking awesome.

At some point, for some reason, I began writing some of these stories down. Oh, I remember the reason. Because Anne got all fucking hot and bothered when she read them! I would leave her little notes that she found when she got home from work or school. She would find them, read them and get all worked up. When I would finally see her later she would attack me. Rip my clothes off and demand that I pound her into a frothing orgasmic mess.

Fun!

Well, all good things must pass. We got married.

HA!

No seriously, we did get married. But the fun didn't stop. 

Honestly. 

I continued to write stories that excited her. Ready to jump me and suck my cock for all she was worth. But I also started looking at that wonderful universe known as the internet.

TA DA!!! THE INTERNET!!! WOO!!

It was so pretty.

Like any normal guy, I of course surfed the web for porn.

PORN!

But I also began surfing for other people that might be interested into this whole idea of swinging. I read about swingers in Penthouse ("I never thought that these stories were true. . .") and it seemed that swingers in the 70s wore lots of polyester, snorted a lot of coke, lived in California, and placed ads in magazines that you could only buy in creepy little stores with no windows located out by the airport.

We didn't do any of those things. We live in the Midwest. 

Obviously. 

Otherwise the title of wouldn't make too much sense. 

But, we also didn't do drugs, and we definitely didn't wear polyester. Unless we were going to a 70s party. Well, even then, probably no polyester. And, while we had been to some of those creepy little stores out by the airport. . . um, just browsing of course, we never bought any of those swinger magazines.

In fact, Anne and I never talked about swinging. I was just writing stories and getting her hot. But as I surfed the internet for porn, I found myself on sites that talked about swinging. And you know what? I thought it was pretty cool. Here were other people writing about similar things that I was writing about. Sex with other people. Sex with your wife with other people. Sex with your wife, other people and small horses.

Well, that's a different site. And a different book. Ew.

As I surfed and read, my stories got more elaborate. Different scenarios with different people. Single men. Single women. Couples. You name it, I started to write about it or talk about it. And Anne was right there with me. She got just as turned on about these scenarios as I did. It seemed that we both really liked these stories about swinging! Bring on the polyester baby!

So what did this all mean? That we were two fucking sicko perverts? Well, maybe. 

But to me it really meant that we enjoyed the same things sexually. What turned me on turned her on as well. And a big part of that seemed to be trying to meet up with other people to live out some of these fantasies. To see what it was like to add others to our sex life. I mean, actually do it.

So, that's what Anne and I started focusing on. We wanted to move beyond just the stories and instead try to find another person or people to have sex with. To fuck. And, based upon all of these fantastic sites that we were looking at, these people were out there. All over the place! Lots and lots of super horny, super attractive sex starved men and women waiting for us. To fuck.

Aren't things great on the internet!

We decided to give it a shot. Anne and I decided to swing with another couple! Or swap. Or whatever you call it. We would find the right people, meet up with them for deep discussions about worldly events, and then have unbelievably fantastic sex with them. We plunged headlong into this sexual voyage and couldn't wait to start living the dream.

On to the adventures!

Yeah, sure. We just walked out the door and some hot freakin couple was standing on our doorstep saying, "Please, will you take us to bed and fuck us now?" Well, it didn't quite work that way for us. We've had our ups and downs. And sideways. Kinda like a wonkavator. With a whole lot more tits and ass.

So, basically, we pressed a fucking button and wondered where the hell we would end up. 

Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 02



NOTE: This is a stand-alone story, but the continuing adventures of a swinger couple. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2: Wasting Away in Margarita-ville 

After chatting online with lots of different people, I began corresponding with one couple quite a bit. Kevin and Misty. The good thing about them was that they didn't live too far away from us. They, like us, were interested in the whole idea of swinging but had never actually done it. Swinger Virgins. Kevin and I had many late night online talks about what we wanted to do with each other's spouses. Heck, let's be honest, we wanted to get laid. We wanted to fuck a woman. That wasn't our wife. Isn't that what this was all about?

Kevin, as he described himself, was about my height had blond hair and a job. Work is good! For the life of me it didn't even make an impression on me at the time as to what he did. I think something with his hands.

Electrical.

He didn't have electric hands. But he may have been an electrician.

Or worked at UPS.

Whatever.

Now Misty, I remember to this day that she worked at a movie theater. I don't know what she actually did at the theater. Made the popcorn? Took the tickets? Blew guys in the bathroom? No clue. But she was Blonde. And she was small. Not like "little person" small. But small nonetheless.

Anne chatted quite a bit with them as well. And, as far as I knew, Kevin had his wife Misty chat with me. I think. That's the thing with online chats. You never know who you're really chatting with. If you did, then all those pedophiles that get arrested and make the nightly news would never be caught by the police. Morons.

So we chatted. Me, Anne, Kevin and Misty. We were full of fantasies. Sharing partners. Licking, sucking and fucking.

On the internet.

In real life? Not so much.

At least not for a while.

We were all scared. How do you take the next step? How do you look a guy in the eye and ask him if you can fuck his wife? Or ask him if he will fuck your wife? 

Weird.

Very, very weird.

But, we kept at it. And we were feeling more and more comfortable with each other. Well, on the computer. So, we decided to meet. All of us. Without computers.

Maybe we should have sent our computers to meet each other "in real life."

IRL.

There's even an acronym for it. Because the real world is so weird when it comes to swinging. So much more goes on in the computer world. Chatting. IM'ing. Chat rooms. Video chat rooms. Skyping. Tweeting.

Holy crap, can't we just meet?????

Which is what we decided to do.

To meet.

In person.

In public.

At a bar.

Cause if we're gonna meet with people, like for real, there's gonna have to be alcohol involved.

Lots and lots of alcohol.

We decided to meet at a pretty well-known downtown Mexican restaurant. It was a central location for both of us. Neutral territory. I remember driving over there. Anne was so nervous. Before we got there, she decided that we needed to buy some breath mints.

We had to have breath mints!

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was gonna let you fuck my wife. But, um, your breath! I mean, Jesus!"

So we stopped for mints. Lifesavers I think. We were suckin' those bad boys down like we hadn't eaten in week! God I'm starving!!! More spearmint!! Soon enough, we parked and were walking in to the place.

We spotted Kevin and Misty sitting at a table.  They spotted us. Super fresh breath and all.

I shook Kevin's hand. He seemed like a decent fellow. Anne wasn't running away screaming. 

That was a positive.

I looked over at Misty.

Like I said, she was small and blond. Cute.

And very very VERY drunk.

Did I say drunk?

Cause that's what she was.

Kevin told us that Misty was kind of nervous. So, she had a margarita to calm her nerves.

Then she had a second one.

She was on her third when we walked into the bar.

I think she may have weighed 90 pounds sopping wet. And quite a bit of that was now well soaked in tequila. 

We were going to sit down with them but Kevin told us that there was a nice open air patio upstairs. He thought that it would be a better place to chat.

Fine by us.

I just wasn't sure if Misty was gonna make it up the steps.

Seriously.

I think Kevin held onto her. Kind of guided her like a drunk pinball up the stairs, bouncing off the walls the entire way. 

When we got to the top we found that there was no one else out on the patio.

That was a good thing.

As we walked through the restaurant, thoughts raced through my head. Could people tell? Did they know why two complete stranger couples were meeting at this bar? That we were there to talk about fucking each other? Were we putting out some type of signal?

"Holy marriage vows Batman, it's the Swinger Light!!"

So, it was probably good that we were alone up there. Us, Kevin and, um, oh boy.

We tried chatting a bit.

Why was it so much easier on a computer? Conversation flowed out of my fingers. Funny. Witty. Quick with a response. The reality was that I couldn't shut up when typing.

In person? I was like a monk freshly released from his vow of silence. 

I had nothing.

Anne wasn't much better. My bubbling outgoing wife had suddenly become shy and introverted. 

Crap.

This was not going at all like it did in all the stories. The easy meet. The cool conversations. The hot fucking!!!

We were a bunch of statues sitting on the patio of a bar.

Then Misty decided that she wanted to show us her tattoo.

Um, ok. Drunk girl in the spotlight!

You know, I think that she wanted to show us her tattoo. She was a bit hard to understand at this point 'cause she was slurring quite a bit. 

Whatever.

It at least gave us something to do other than struggle with actual talking. 

So, I figured that she would show us a nice little tattoo on her shoulder. Or maybe something small and dainty on a foot. Or a toe.

Nope.

She was suddenly pulling down her pants. Pulling down her thong. To show us her tattoo on her hip. 

Nice. Um, butterfly. Or something. I'm looking at a little drunk ass in the dark here!

So. There we were. On the patio of some bar, with a couple that we had talked with about fucking, and Misty was pulling her pants down to show us her ass.

"Can you see it?"

Can you seeeeeeeee it!?"

Oh, we can see it alright.

Maybe you should, um, put it away? 

She did. She managed to pull up her pants. Then she babbled on a bit more about something.

And then?

She puked.

All over the patio.

Oh. My. God.

Well. Isn't this going well?

Um, where do ya go from here? I mean, where?

Kevin went over to her. I think he had a napkin or something and tried to help clean her up a bit. Anne and I? Well, suddenly we were very interested in something, um, over, uh there.

After a bit, they came over to where Anne and I were kind of cowering. In the corner.

"I feel a lot better!" said Misty, smiling at us.

"Great!" I answered. "Now let's go fuck!"

On the inside. No, I wasn't even saying that on the inside. On the inside I was saying, "Eewwwww!!!!"

On the outside, I was saying, "So, uh, are you ok?"

She told us that she was. Kevin apologized and said that the night was certainly not going in the direction that they thought it would.

No shit.

Amazingly, instead of simply running away to sober up, Misty wanted to continue the evening. Even more amazingly, I guess, is that we agreed. Hey, her next show could be even better so why not!! Oh, and Misty told us that she was done drinking for the night.

Good call Misty.

We left the bar (and the puke) behind and decided to take a walk down the street for a bit.

The lack of conversation continued as we walked. Misty was still kinda blitzed, Kevin just didn't talk a lot and I think that Anne and I were shell-shocked from the whole puke on the patio experience. So, we wandered. And ended up in front of the local porn shop. I mean, what city doesn't have a local porn shop? And whaddya know, ours turned out to be on this street.

So we went in. 

It was your typical porn store. Clothes up front. Dildoes and other various toys in the middle, and x-rated movies in the back.

Oh yeah, there was a one-legged woman working the place.

A One FUCKING Legged Woman.

See, I knew the second act would be as good as the first!!!

A One.Legged.Woman.

With very few teeth. And, hmmmmm, how can I put this. . . She was, um, kind of, disheveled.

Amazingly, even though most of the stuff in the store was wrapped in plastic, I still thought that the merchandise was dirty. The shelved were dirty. I think that the air was kinda dirty.

Anne and the now somewhat sober Misty were in one aisle giggling over some of the vibrators. They were turning them on and off, looking at the different sizes, etc. I thought I heard Anne ask, "Where the hell would you put all of this?" while holding a twelve inch monster in her hands. Me? I was looking at the videos. I gazed upon row after row of cheesy titles telling me all about every possible sexual perversion imaginable. I have no idea what Kevin was doing.

Somehow, Anne and Misty got into a conversation with the one-legged porn lady (O.L.P.L) about the different vibrators that they were looking at. While explaining one of the long slender bullet shaped items, O.L.P.L. croaked out, 

"This is my favorite one."

Oh no she didn't!

I, for one, thought that it was now my turn to puke.

Seriously.

O.L.P.L. cackled and gabbed with the girls. I think Kevin had slipped out the back door for a bit, and I was trying to go to my happy place. You know. The one that didn't have a nasty one-legged porn lady lurking in the corner.

After making some purchases, we left store and decided to end our evening of strangeness. We left O.L.P.L behind. We left Misty the puker behind. We left that night behind.

Although I think that Anne's vibrator wore out only a few short months ago.

It was a damn good vibrator.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 03



NOTE: This is a stand-alone story but one of our continuing swinger adventures. I hope you find it enjoyable. Thanks

Chapter 3: The Knight's Inn Experience. Are You Experienced?

So, we survived our first adventure in the world of swinging!

WOOOOO!!!!

Well, it certainly was an experience.

But there wasn't much swinging.

I don't even think that Anne and I had sex when we got home that night. Instead, we were too grossed out by the whole experience. We probably spent a little time in the shower. Like for, I don't know, maybe four hours or so. Scrubbing vigorously. How long does it take to get the creepy feeling of a one legged porn woman off of your body

But we didn't give up! We had a desire to enter the world of swinging and by golly we were gonna make it there!

I guess memories do cloud over time, because after a while, we thought about trying to get together with Kevin and Misty again. I know, I know, you're thinking, "But what about the whole puking thing?" Well, I gotta tell ya, being horny makes you forget. Or maybe makes you stupid. Or both. Whatever the reason, we were willing to put that behind us and move forward. Try to get together again and see if something could happen with them.

This time, we decided to meet them at a restaurant to catch a bite for dinner and see where it went from there. I looked, but unfortunately there were no alcohol free restaurants that were nearby that weren't of the fast food variety. So we ended up meeting them at an Applebee's. The neutral ground of swinger-dom. Yes, I know that the food sucks (Sorry Applebee's but it's true! Oh, it's true!) but it is a great place to meet up with another couple. That way, if things just aren't clicking between you and them, you can easily make your escape between the waitress bringing you the giant overpriced light beer and her serving the bland yet heat of the sun temperature chicken fajitas. Wooo! Hot and tasteless!!! Yummy!

I guess that brings us to the first rule of swinging.

The First Rule of Swinging. Never, ever, ever agree to meet someone in your home. 

Never. Ever. I mean, who knows what kind of whack jobs the other people turn out to be? And you want them in your home? You need to really, really, really know the other people before inviting them to your house. And even then it's probably not a good idea.

So, we met at neutral ground. Applebee's. I had a lite beer.

And fajitas. Chicken.

We got there before Kevin and Misty did. A good thing, as it didn't give Misty time to get all liquored up. Anne was still nervous. Hell, I was nervous. Even though we'd spent an evening with them already, it still wasn't an easy thing to meet up with them and talk about fucking. I mean, we barely knew them. And we were gonna get down to business on how this wild sex session was gonna go down over some jalapeno poppers. Well, and maybe chat about other stuff. But we all know that fucking is really the thing on everyone's mind.

So, they showed up. I think Kevin had a lite beer. 

And we had a fantastic conversation with them.

Ha!

Just kidding.

It was painful as usual. Filled with a lot of awkward, pregnant pauses. We just had nothing in common with them. They had nothing in common with us. We talked. They, uh, didn't. 

Wait. We both breathed oxygen! Great! Some common ground! Not a lot of conversation based on the whole oxygen thing though. "So, um Kevin. . .Uh, how 'bout that oxygen? Some good stuff huh? Keeping those cells working and all. Good stuff."

After some small talk about the weather and local sports teams, the conversation simply collapsed all together. At least for a while.

"So, um, what are you thinking about order for dinner?"

"The fajitas."

"Hey, us too!"

[. . .]

*crickets chirping*

Wow.

Not.Gonna.Happen.

Anne was giving me one of her looks. One of her patented stare downs. You know that look. Like the one that Abbot used to give to Costello.

"What kinda nonsense have you gotten us into now you moron?!?"

That's what her look said to me.

I sank a bit lower down behind my frosty mug and tried to plot my strategy. I just didn't want to give up. As bad as things looked, we were still holding on. Well, I was holding on. It was still possible to call this mission a success. To declare victory. I just wanted to see Misty naked. Just a little bit of female flesh. Just gimme one naked boob! Is that too much to ask for? A goddamned bare breast? One freakin' titty? 

I think not!

But it was gonna be tough. I turned to Kevin and Misty to say something.

Strike that.

I looked back over at Anne. She was lacing up her running shoes.

Ready to bolt.

Ohhhhh boy.

It was now or never. Time to make my move. Stand up and take charge!

"So, uh, what does everyone feel like doing?"

Way to be strong there moron! Decisive! Kevin and Misty said nothing. No big shock there. Anne gave me a horrified look like an alien was about to burst through my chest. I started to sweat. This was not the fantastic swinging evening that I had imagined taking place. Instead, I felt like it was a scene out of a horror movie.

Just as the creepy music was about to start and the crazed psycho-killer would start plunging a sharp knife into my chest repeatedly, it happened.

"We could go get a hotel room."

Wait a minute. Who said that? Kevin? My god! Kevin! He talked? He talked!!! Holy shit he knows how to talk! Hallelujah and praise the Lord he knows how to talk! He's been healed!! Tears welled up in my eyes. Thank you Kevin! I looked at Misty. Tiny sweet little Misty. Although her head was almost completely hidden behind her large beer mug, she nodded vigorously in approval. God I loved that tiny little alcoholic woman!

[Mental note. No more beers for the itty-bitty blond in the corner.]

That's two. They're in! They want action! They want to get a hotel room! They wanna get nasty! Mmmmm, nasty!

Now, the tough one. I was almost afraid to look. What if she says no? What if she says nothing? What if she's caught the no talk disease from Kevin and Misty? What if she turns out to be the psycho-killer and starts plunging a knife into my chest??? I shut my eyes. Slowly turned my head. Keeping one eye shut tightly, I sloooowly open the other one and looked at Anne. I was a squinty, horny one-eyed staring doofus, looking at my wife.

Quite the swinging stud I must say.

She was looking at me. With her patented "What the fuck are you doing?" look.

She has a lot of different looks. Or at least I think she does. I gave her my, "So whaddya think about Kevin's idea to go get a hotel room" look. Trust me, it's not an easy one to pull off. You eyebrows have to literally be going in different directions. I almost sprained my forehead.

Anne stared back. Kinda blankly.

Obviously she didn't understand my look.

Ok. Switch to Plan B.

"Um, you wanna?" Brilliant!

"Sure."

Sure? Sure? Really?  She said sure? Check! Waiter, check please!!! What the hell does a guy gotta do to get a check for a few watery beers and some crappy fajitas????? Holy shit, who the fuck do I have to blow to get the goddamn check!!!!

She said sure! She said sure!!!!

I was like a kid with a new puppy on Christmas!

Ok. Be cool. Don't blow it. Relax.

Breathe.

Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! 

HOLY SHIT!

I was still mumbling that to myself as we left the restaurant.

Ok, wait. We agreed on going to a hotel, but where? Which one? Which way? Oh no, is the plan gonna go down in flames because of the utter lack of a plan?

"So, um, any idea what hotel you guys wanna go to?" I asked. I was NOT gonna let this opportunity slip by.

"Well, there's a Knight's Inn around the corner," answered Kevin.

When the fuck did Kevin become such a chatty Cathy? Could somebody tell that guy to just shut up?

Just kidding. I loved that guy! He was talking! He was planning! He was acting almost normal!

"Uh, ok." I was trying to be suave. Be cool. We got in our respective cars to drive around the corner.

"You ok?" asked Anne. Well, so much for being cool and suave. She always saw right through me. Damn that cute perceptive woman! 

"Who me? I'm fine why?" 

"You just seem a little nervous."

"A bit." I paused. "You?"

"Well, we don't have to do anything with them."

Don't have to do anything???? What are you insane woman? I've been trying to set this up for months! I've chatted online with these people for hours at a time. I've watched her puke up several frozen marguaritas! I've hung out with the creepy one-legged porn lady! Don't have to do anything??? What are you fucking crazy???

Of course, that was all on the inside.

"Um. No, I guess not." 

"We'll just see how it goes."

Ok, so we still have a chance! Wooooo Hoooo!!!! Good enough for me!

We soon pulled into the hotel parking lot. After all, it was literally down the street from the Applebee's. Being a Knight's Inn, it was kinda creepy. (Sorry Knight's Inn, but it's true! Oh, it's true!)

Kevin and I both got out of our cars and headed over to the office. Now, this was weird. I mean, here I was, walking into a hotel with another guy to get a room. Together. And we weren't going to be staying the night. How do we do this? Do we pay cash? Credit card? Two credit cards? Does he use a credit card and I pay him some cash? Do I even have any cash? Do I know anyone here? Why's the front desk clerk looking at me? Is everybody looking at me? Is it hot in here? I can't breathe and I'm sweating! Crap, I have stinky fajita breath!! Fuck!!!!

Oh my god! I'm having a fucking panic attack in this crappy hotel lobby!

Kinda sad, isn't it?

Pull it together Eric! Goddamn it, you are so close to the whole swapping experience. You are not gonna blow it here. You got me? So shape the fuck up and get in there and get yourself a hotel room key! Do you hear me??? Good.

"Why don't we split it," said Kevin, pulling out a credit card. Good old Kevin! He's the man! He's a thinker! Maybe I misjudged the lad. Perhaps you simply needed to peel back a few layers. Expose the true nature, the real brilliance of his character? 

Nah. 

After paying and getting the key, it was silence again. We went back out to the cars and the ladies. Room 74. Awesome room 74. The room that will go down in infamy. The room where it all started. The room where I became a swinger! A swapper! Wooooooo, all hail room 74.

"Where are we going?"

"Um, room 74, I think."

"O.k." said Anne. She was like the queen of cool. She was like Iceman from Top Gun. I was more like Cougar, the dude who fucking freaked out at the beginning of the movie. I was fucking cougar!

You know, someday I'd like to fuck a cougar. . . 

But sadly, this moment wasn't exactly about the good kind. Of cougar. Instead, I was the sweaty, nervous mess kind.

"Have a mint," said Iceman. She had my back. She was my wingman! She knew my breath smelled like shit!

"Right," I answered, popping an altoid into my mouth. Curiously strong my ass! That little fucking mint wilted when the pressure was on. So I popped about twenty-five more and we were on our way. 

To room seventy . . . , um. What was it again? FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK!!

This was so not going well.

Fortunately, I remembered what Kevin's car looked like. It was a truck! A big honkin' white truck! I saw the truck! Excellent. Get to the truck!

"There it is. Room 74." I wanted to kiss Iceman! However, with my mouth full of mints that were now burning a hole in my tongue, I figured that it was not the best thing to do. So I said, 'right.' Except it came out as,

"rfghrgtbrl"

Stupid mints. 

Anne gave me a puzzled look as we got out of our car and headed to the hotel room. Kevin and Misty were already in there. He obviously wasn't having the complete mental breakdown that I was. I knocked softly and he soon opened the door. We went in. . .to room filled with hot naked women!

No, actually it was a room with a stained carpet, bedspreads that smelled funny, and Misty.

Misty didn't smell funny. Well, at least I didn't think so. Me? I smelled like a bottle of scope mouthwash. My breath was so minty fucking fresh that I thought I was gonna hurl. Maybe Misty would like that. . . 

I had picked up a bottle of cheap wine before we met them at the Applebee's, so I cracked that open and poured some into two glasses. Kevin and Misty were drinking something as well. I have no idea what it was, but I worried about whether Misty was gonna puke on the hotel room floor. Sadly, that may have been an improvement. I wasn't sure I wanted to even get naked in the room. It kind of creeped me out. I kept imagining things were crawling on the walls. Well, maybe I wasn't imagining.

Forget the wine. I should have brought some raid. Eeww.

Of course, I didn't say anything to Anne about the crawling walls. She woulda been out of there so fast she would have left a vapor trail across the cheap carpeting. So we sat on the hard little double beds and drank.

And looked at each other.

What happened to outgoing Kevin? Decisive Kevin? Kevin that said something? 

Anything? 

Nothing.

Now what? We were sooooo close. Yet so far.

"I've got a deck of cards." I looked over at my wife. My beautiful wonderful wife! Good old Anne! Always coming through in the clutch!

"We could play some strip poker."

Who was this woman? I did not know this woman! She was on fire! She was amazing! The three of us kind of nodded dumbly. Ok. We can play cards. We can play poker.

Wait a minute? Did she say poker? I love poker! I'm awesome at poker! I'm a guy! Poker is like, in my genes or something! This is fantastic! A few hands and we'll have naked women sitting next to us! Then they'll have to, you know, do stuff! (mmmmmmm, stuff!) I was excited! I was confident!

I was in my underwear.

What the fuck? How the hell did this happen? 

Bad cards. I knew exactly how it happened. Bad fucking cards. Fucking, fuck, fuck, poker! I looked around. Kevin was almost fully dressed. Misty was in her bra and jeans. Anne was still wearing most of her clothes as well. 

Great. Just great.

Because I lost again.

"Well," I said, "I guess I'll be naked first."

And suddenly I was.

And you know what? It was cold in the room.

It's shrinkage! I swear its shrinkage!

My little man was not happy with me. This was not the way it was supposed to go. We were supposed to see a breast! Some boobies! Maybe even a little muff! The whole package. Instead, he and I were out there for the whole world to see!

Here I am! Except he was kind of hiding. Because it was cold and he was pissed off.

I don't even think that Misty really looked.

Nuts.

Well, not really. Kind of the problem, I guess.

Anyway, I sat there, naked, as we continued to play. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long until both Anne and Misty were naked.

Naked.

NAKED!!

Another woman was naked in front of me! And I wasn't slipping singles into her thong! This was great! This was incredible! This was-

Kind of ho hum.

The fact was, Anne was much better looking than Misty. No offense to her, but she just wasn't really my type. I mean, she was a fine looking person.  I guess. 

How's that for a compliment?

But she just wasn't doing it for me. I mean, there they were. Two breasts. 

On a woman.

That wasn't my wife.

And she just didn't get my juices flowing. My engine revving.  

Nothing. 

Fortunately, Anne saved the day again. She pulled these kooky little dice out of her purse. They were sex dice that told the roller to do something, like 'lick the nipple of your partner.' Or 'lick down lower.' Yes they were goofy. Did they keep things going though?

Hell yes they did!

We only played around with our partners though. Which, I have to admit, was fine with me. So I was kissing and licking Anne and Kevin was, well, I don't know what Kevin was doing, because my face was buried in Anne's ginormous boobs. After a while we forgot about the dice and were each on a bed. Anne and I fooled around a bit, but soon were watching tiny little Misty bouncing up and down on Kevin's cock.

And screaming and screeching loudly. I thought he was hurting her.

I tried. I really tried. I was licking and sucking and moving and grooving, but it sounded like Kevin was killing a cat next to us. Honest to God. I've heard lots of women in the throes of ecstasy over the years, and none, NONE have made the sounds that Misty was making that night.

It just wasn't all that sexy. I didn't shoot a huge wad across the room from my massive love weapon. Actually, it wasn't all that massive that night. I felt bad.

I think Anne had an ok time. A great time? No. A good time? Maybe. 

But we had a true swinging experience.

All that work.

Whew.

It was exhausting. We dressed. We smiled.

Talk? What are you, kidding?

We mumbled our goodbyes and headed out the door.

And then I remembered that I still had to return the room key.

Fuck.

Do I have any more mints? 



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 04



Note: This is a stand-alone story, but part of our continuing adventures as a swinger couple. I hope you find at least some of these adventures humorous. Thanks.

Chapter 4: Riding Fat Women and Dildoes: Worst County Song Ever! 

Ok, so we had a somewhat successful encounter with Misty and Kevin at the Knight's Inn. I mean, I saw another woman naked! Anne was naked! Hell, I was naked! And even though we were fooling around on one bed and they were going at it on another, I figured that we had finally started truly swinging with other couples. The great swinging adventure! Woo!

Woo.

So now what? I mean, I wasn't sure how to take it all to the next level. You know. Actual sex with another person level. People. Sex with other people! How do we have sex with other people? Well, I know how to have sex with other people. It's just how do you make it happen? And who the fuck do we do it with?

Well, Kevin and Misty seemed to be the obvious choice. I mean, think about it. We'd been naked together and were still talking to each other. And even though we didn't have a lot in common with them, we'd come a long way since the whole puking thing at the Mexican restaurant.

So, Anne and I decided to keep trying to get together with Kevin and Misty to see where things might go. And by that I mean go to bed. To fuck. 

Hopefully.

An additional positive about Kevin and Misty is that several times when I was chatting with them, they told me about all of these absolutely wild times that they had with some other friends of theirs at a local bar. Crazy, crazy times. With women.

Hello!

That of course, piqued my interest immediately. Um, because, uh, ah, 

Ah, who the fuck am I kidding? Women having crazy sexual times with each other? I wanna know about it!! I wanna watch it!!! I wanna stick my face in it and do a motorboat!

Whew.

Anyway, I asked them for more details about these wild nights at the bar. Kevin and Misty explained that when they were out with some female friends of theirs, Misty and the other girls tended to get a bit crazy. After drinking vast amounts of alcoholic beverages served in foofy glasses with umbrellas, some dirty dancing and heavy flirting would inevitably occur. Between the women. Usually after lots of drinking, dancing and flirting the girls would then dare each other to make out and of course they would end up doing it.

Zoinks!!!

Kevin told me that one night when they were at the bar, one of the other women that they were with dared Misty to give her a lap dance. Misty was apparently up to the challenge, and Kevin said that almost instantly, Misty's tiny little body was grinding all over the other woman's lap. Meanwhile, the other woman was running her hands around Misty's back and breasts, down to her legs and across her thong-covered pussy. Misty's little mini-skirt was riding up higher and higher as Kevin and the other ladies cheered them on. Kevin said that things were ultimately cut short by one of the bouncers at the bar. It seemed that while they were willing to let a lot of the activities go on, Misty and this other lady had managed to cross the line.

*thwump*

I think my dick hit the underside of the desk as I read Kevin's online description of that night at the bar. Visions of hot supermodel women danced lustily through my head, grinding hard on each other, their large breasts mashing together, their pussies getting soaked with excitement and desire. As they moved together on the dance floor, their flimsy tops would barely be able to keep their perfectly shaped, gravity-defying triple-D breasts from bursting out. Hands would slide down to micro-mini skirts, lifting them up and exposing incredible asses, barely covered in flimsy see-through thong panties.

Holy shit! I had to get to this bar!!! This could perhaps be the greatest place in the entire universe! All men needed to know about it! There should be ads about this bar in the newspaper! There should be a guy on every street corner yelling into a bullhorn about this magical land of sex-crazed love goddesses, ready to play with each other in a hot sweaty naked pile of fun!

So I told Anne about it. Surely she would see how important it was for us to engage in this fantastical experience! This wonderful adventure! This incredible orgy of humanity!

She did not share my enthusiasm. 

While she didn't exactly say no to going, she certainly wasn't frantically checking her calendar to see when we might have a free night in the next few days. All in all, she was rather apathetic about it.

Why? Why damn you why?????

Which, of course, I said on the inside. To Anne I said, "C'mon. I mean, let's just go one night. We don't have to stay that long if we don't like it."

I followed that up a few days later with, "I mean, it's not like it's that far of a drive. So, if it sucks, we could still go out somewhere else that night."

I wrapped up my pitch a few weeks later with, "You know, it would only be for a drink."

She finally gave in. I think she was just tired of hearing me whine about the place. Kevin kept telling me about these awesome nights at the bar, and my desire to go was now through the roof!

So, one glorious evening, we made plans to go to this bar with Kevin and Misty. This SUPER-BAR, filled with hordes of hot, horny women. He assured me that the group of crazy sexy ladies that Misty liked to hang out with would be there that night. ASSURED ME!

I imagined that after a few drinks, Anne wouldn't be able to contain herself, and that she too would soon be dancing and grinding! Allowing other women to feel and caress her large breasts while she did the same to theirs. I had a perpetual hard-on the entire week as my fantasy became wilder and more vivid! I couldn't wait for that Saturday night!!

We made plans with Kevin and Misty and then we were off! Like a rocket! In a Toyota! Well, maybe not like a rocket. So we drove. For a while. 

And then drove some more.

Further. Into, um, nowhere. Really. We were driving into fucking nowhere. And then, as we rounded a corner, the bar was there.

And the lights from the heavens shined down upon us and the angels sang sweetly.

Well no, not really. It was actually kind of dark. And dumpy looking. Very dumpy looking.

But I would not be dissuaded from my task! This was a bar filled with gorgeous women that wanted to do all sorts of nasty things to each other and I was going to be a witness!!

We Are All Witness!!! Woooooo!!!!!! BOOOOOOOOOBS!

Anne still was not exactly as excited as I was about the evening. She had gotten over her initial reluctance to venture out to this land of erotic dancing girls with large boobies, but to say that she was enthusiastic would be a stretch. However, she was a trooper. She'd dressed in a cute little jean skirt and a tight top and put a smile on her cute little face. And some lipstick.

Hell, I'd do her.

I briefly considered it, but thought that bending her over the car hood in the parking lot of a bar in the middle of nowhere was probably not the best of choices. So I kept my lust in check and we headed inside.

To country.

Oh yes. It was a country and western bar. Now, one thing that Anne and I are definitely NOT, is a couple of country and western fans. Not in the least bit. Not as in, "Oh, I don't really like country, but I do like this song. . ." kind of country fans. Never have been. Never will be. Bleecchhh. That's what I think of country. And Anne likes it even less than I do.

Oh, and did I mention that the place was filled with smoke? You see, our little adventure that night took place well before the country went on its anti-smoking kick. Not that we minded the change. Being able to walk into a bar and not start choking on cigarette smoke is a pretty good thing to me. But I don't smoke. I can't say the same for ANYONE else in that bar that night. Well, except for Anne. Who was now wheezing and turning a funny gray, ashen color. And swaying. Almost to the beat of the awful country song that was blaring away.

So to set the scene, we couldn't breathe, couldn't hear too well, and we couldn't see too far into the murky haze of the smoke filled bar. We stumbled around for a bit, until we fortunately saw Kevin and Misty. They were all smiles -- glad that we came. We chatted a bit. Well, a very little bit. They still had nothing to say. We saw each other naked for Pete's sake, and yet these people still had nothing to talk about! I mean, it's not like I'm looking for deep conversations about life, the universe and everything here. 

But something more than, "Um, hey! So you made it. . . ." would have been nice. I've had better conversations with automated phone messages!

Whatever. We were willing to overlook that. I mean, I was willing to overlook that. For I was in this fabled land of broads, boobs and bi-girl action! I was here! I wanted to kneel down and kiss the ground. I wanted to plant a flag. I wanted to compose a poem. I felt alive! I felt free.

Fat women.

Um, hello, what? 

As I was sitting down at the table that Kevin and Misty had gotten for us, I noticed something.

Fat women.

Lots and lots of fat women.

Sitting with us. At this table. With me and Anne and Kevin and Misty.

Now I'm not talking about some ladies with a few extra pounds. I'm talking obese. I'm talkin' large Marge in those awful stretch pants that you see trollin' through the aisles of Wal-Mart. I'm talking Biggest Loser contestants here.

Yeah, ummmm, ok. Excuse me? I think I'm at the wrong table? You see, I'm supposed to be surrounded by hot lesbian stripper/porn models right now? Can I move please? Anyone? 

Fuck.

As I sat there in a daze or smoke and flesh, I heard Misty introducing Anne to all of her chubby little friends. Well, Misty was little. And next to these porkers she looked absolutely tiny. Like circus show freak tiny. "Ladies and gentlemen! I draw your attention to the center ring where Minuscule Misty and Titanic Tina will entertain you with their amazing difference in size!!" 

Actually, I thought that one of them was gonna eat her. Just open her wide maw and toss her tiny little body in like some monster from Greek mythology.

"Ahhhh, look out, the fatteus has grabbed Misty!!! Where is Perseus and the gorgon head to turn her into a large fat block of stone!!! She's going to devour that poor maiden in one bite!!! Ahhhh!!!!"

Fuck.

These were the wild and crazy women that Kevin had described? The ones that got nuts and crazy? Maybe at a Baskin & Robbins on free ice cream day, or at the Pizza Hut all-u-can-eat pasta/pizza buffet, but I just wasn't seeing it here.

Dildoes.

What?

As I looked past one of the large ladies, I couldn't help but notice that there was a rather large pink dildo sitting on the table. Like huge twelve inch giant pink rubber kind of dildo.

Huh.

That just isn't something that you see every day in a bar. In the middle of nowhere. With smoke and country music.

Was it?

Turns out that they were all celebrating at the bar because it was the birthday of one of the beasts. I think her name was Ginormica. Or Megan. 

Anyway, they all thought that it would be funny to get her sex-related items as gifts and bring them to her at the bar. Like an offering to the food god. There was ginormica, surrounded by these dildoes and cards and chocolates. Quite the erotic scene. 

Um, no.

In fact, between the billowing smoke, blaring Garth Brooks and the fat lady with multiple plastic penises, I was feeling a bit nauseous. I looked over at Anne. Her ashen color remained. Perhaps with a tinge of green. Rather pretty in fact, contrasting with the pink top.

Until she looked over at me. With the death glare. AAAAHHHHHH!!!!! I'm melting toto! Melting!

Well, that's what it felt like. That stare. That look that said, "WHATTHEFUCKWEREYOUTHINKINGTAKINGMEHEREINTHEMIDDLEOFNOWHEREWITHSMOKECOUNTRYMUSICANDFATWOMENYOUMORON!!!!!"

Ouch. Like I said. It was not a good stare. It was a stare that told me that I was gonna be paying for this little adventure for a very long time.

And that's when the heard decided they wanted to go graze. Dance I mean. They wanted to dance. As they rumbled over to the floor, Misty somehow convinced Anne to go up there and dance with them. And a few little stick figure guys. 

Holy shit, there were other guys there! At the table!

Obviously I couldn't see them because they were hidden by ginormica and her minions.

So there was Anne. Over on the dance floor dancing with the cast of a Richard Simmons Sweating to the oldies video. I sat at the table, surrounded by rubber dongs and broken dreams, coughing and wheezing while I felt sorry for myself.

Kinda pathetic actually.

I think that one of the tubbos actually tried to get me up on the dance floor at one point. My heart just wasn't in it, so I threw her a jelly doughnut and watched her waddle off in search of further nutrient.

Actually, I told her that I needed to stay at the table and guard the purses. I'm the walrus wallet police!

I think she glared at me and stomped away. I flagged down a waitress, ordered a light beer ("I'm sorry, are you sitting at the right table sir?") and sat and watched my beautiful wife dance amongst the whales and buffaloes. The stick man with her was looking her over. I'm not sure he'd seen someone that thin in quite a while. He obviously wanted her to stay, but I think Anne was done.

Done with the dingy bar.

Done with the country music.

Done with the cigarette smoke.

And definitely done with Misty's flabby friends.

She walked over to me, grabbed my hand and hauled me out of the bar.

As we drove away, I couldn't help but think that this was probably it for Kevin and Misty. It just wasn't gonna happen. Not now. Not ever. 

And the hot stripper girls dancing with Anne in an erotic display of flesh and lust?

Well, it was just gonna remain a fantasy.

Now, it was time to go home and start a diet. 

Ugh.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 05



Note: This is a stand-alone story that is part of our on-going swinging adventures. I hope you find at least part of these stories humorous. 

Chapter 5: Swinging with the Lord 

I met a couple one time on a swingers website called swinghookup or something like that. It was a little website that was one of the first "swinger-related" sites I stumbled across on the internet in the 90s. Back then people were still exploring this whole new internet thing. Websites were still kinda new and unique. The swinghookup site had links to swinger related subjects, but the main reason that I surfed the site was for its chat board. This was my first real experience chatting online with other people who shared this crazy interest with Anne and me. You know, of having sex with someone that was not your spouse, yet your spouse knew about it. And your wife or husband was having sex right beside you. In the same bed. But not with you. Crazy. 

For some reason it was usually women that would be chatting on the site. Of course, this being the internet, it could have been a guy simply pretending to be a girl, but I never knew if that was going on. So, for whatever reason, I began chatting with one woman in particular. I got the feeling that she (him? it?) really was a woman. Well, as good a feeling as you could get typing on a computer with some random unknown person.

Usually, this woman, Marcy, would get online and begin to act very sexy. She would spend lots of time typing about all the men that she wanted to screw. To fuck. Hard. She typed merrily away about all the black guys that she wished would bend her over and take her from behind. 

It was all very sensuous and erotic. 

Well, to me it was. I mean, not like, "I gotta rip off my pants and whack off to this incredibly hot and erotic chat!" But still, it was kinda hot.

So, anyway, I began chatting with her in the regular chat room but soon we moved to a private chat room. To be private. For, um, chatting. We chatted about all sorts of things. You know, not just sexual. But a lot sexual. 

People seem to be a lot freer talking about sex when they're typing and not talking. In fact, they type a LOT about sex. Anyway, we chatted about our lives a bit, like what we did for a living and where we lived. That kind of shit.

During one of our many chats, I found out that she didn't live too far away from us. Only about an hour. Her fiancé, Steve, joined in on some of these conversations as well. So did Anne. We all seemed to get along pretty well. Online. One thing that definitely stuck out was that, as opposed to others that we had spent internet time with, they seemed to be rather well educated. 

I remember one conversation I had with Steve about getting children to read and Harry Potter. At the time, some school district in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere was trying to ban the first Harry Potter book from the school library. It was so long ago that there may only have been only one Harry Potter book. 

Why the fuck am I writing about Harry Fucking Potter in the middle of a book about swinging and fucking? 

Stay with me here.

Anyway, I was chatting with the guy, Steve, about how ridiculous the whole situation was with trying to ban this book. I was going on about how great it was that these books were getting kids to read, which was far more important than an irrational fear that the kids would somehow be drawn into a life of witchcraft and sorcery. Oooooo, the devil!!!! Scary!!!!!! Morons.

Steve was agreeing with me, and we were getting pretty deep into religious issues and the hypocrisy of the far right. It was all very heavy stuff. After a while, I commented that he seemed to know a lot about religion. He told me that his college degree was in religious studies.

Wow!! 

I mean, some of the people that we'd met online had never even driven past a college, let alone actually gone to one. To, you know, study. This guy was unique! This guy was different! This guy was educated!!

Although. . . it was, um, a little odd. Here he was a theology major at a university. You know, you really don't run into theology majors all that often. Especially on swinger chat boards. . . 

Still, it was pretty cool to be able to chat with people that could actually hold a good conversation. So, Steve and I continued to chat. Marcy and I continued to chat. Anne and I continued to fuck, but, you know, that's a different story.

After a few weeks of getting to know them a bit better, Steve and Marcy decided that they were going to visit a swinger's club in town near us. Now, Anne and I had not yet ventured out to a club at this point. We had talked about it, but hadn't built up the nerve to go. Steve and Marcy really wanted us to go with them, but seeing as how we were a) chickenshit; and b) had never met them in real life, we politely declined the offer to join them on their club adventure. But, they planned to spend two days in the city, so we told them that we would meet them for dinner on the night that they weren't planning to go clubbing.

We met them at a local restaurant. An Irish pub. I really don't know why. I mean, why Irish? 

Well, we were banned from the Mexican restaurant next door over the whole, uh, margarita puking fiasco, so I guess that Irish was the next best thing.

So, over corned-beef and cabbage, we got together with Steve and Marcy.

I remember when we met. 

He was bald. 

She had long brown hair. All the way down to her very nice ass. 

He was bald. 

She was very flirtatious and sexually aggressive. Just like she was in the online chat rooms.

He was, um, bald.

We talked. We ate Shepherd's pie or potatoes or something. Drank Guinness. As opposed to our Mexican adventure, we were able to carry on a conversation with Steve and Marcy. Again, it helped that we could talk about pretty much anything. However, there was also the somewhat disconcerting fact that Marcy was looking at Anne and me like a tiger looks at a buffalo down by the watering hole. You know, the slow, fat juicy one. Disconcerting. But at the same time somewhat sexy as well.

Anyway, we ended up going back over to their hotel room to chat some more, and we played some weird swinger game with some cards. 

And we all got naked and FUCKED, right?

Well, um, no.

But I do remember hugging Marcy very closely and having her run her hands all over my ass and my dick.

Well, on top of my pants.

Anne and bald guy?

Yeah. Nothing.

He just wasn't doing it for Anne.

So we left. 

At home we talked about how nice and interesting they seemed. Anne really wanted to like him. Well, she liked him. She just didn't want to ride his cock to a screaming orgasm.

Nothing.

Nada.

Marcy was ready to eat both of us alive and Anne just didn't have that spark with bald guy. She felt bad. I felt bad.

And then the day after they went clubbing, they called us to meet for lunch. 

Okay.

Seemed alright.

We met at a local sports bar/rib place. You know, the type of place with t.v.'s all over the walls. We chatted a bit. But I could tell.

Like you can tell with a ripe melon.

It just wasn't gonna happen.

Anne had said no.

So that was it.

But, how do we extricate ourselves from this, um, sticky wicket? They just didn't want to leave. I talked about how I had to get hope to do some, uh, yard work, or something. That I had an early meeting. An old friend was coming from out of town.

Anything.

But they held on. Like a Lamprey eel sinking its razor sharp teeth into a nice fleshy tuna. We just couldn't shake 'em.

We left the restaurant. Said we had to get home. To, um, do some home stuff.

Guess what?

They came with!

No seriously.

They couldn't get the fucking hint that it wasn't gonna happen.

But, being new to the whole scene, Anne and I were too scared to say, "Go away. Sorry. Not interested."

I know, I know, right about now you're saying, "What about your rule one? You know, about never, ever, ever inviting anyone to your home?" Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm stupid. Well, I was. Stupid. I broke the first rule of swinging.

Nope, instead of following the golden rule, we led them to our house. Gave them some wine, cheese and crackers.

And that's when it started to get weird. 

They started talking about their kids. Well, Marcy started talking about her kid. See, it seems that she was married. Before. Once.

Not to Steve.

Hey, that's fine. It happens. No biggie, right?

Anyway, it seems that Marcy's kid had Tourette's syndrome. And about seven other weird health issues.

Tourette's? Really?

Yep. The full swearing, tic, head-bobbing thing. The poor kid had learning disabilities, something wrong with his kidneys, an extra arm or something. Who the fuck knows what else.

Ooooo-kay. That's um fine, but uh, why are you telling, uh, us? We've known you for like 10 minutes in real life. And yet she's pouring out the kid's medical history to us like I'm Bones McCoy and Anne is Dr. Spock.

No, not the Vulcan.

The other one.

You know. The baby doctor. 

Whatever.

So, she's giving us stats. Blood types, chromosome records, CAT scans. 

Wow. Ok. Who wants more wine? Anyone? Me? Yes thanks! I'll take a trough. A trough full of wine for me. And one for my wife!

At that point, you know, after the ER episode we just sat through, they start talking about how the two of them met.

It seems that at one point, Marcy was having some marital trouble. I can't really blame her. Or her former husband. For as messed up as this poor kid sounded, I imagine that it would have been tough on any relationship. 

So, anyway, like I said, Marcy was having marriage trouble. Lots of fighting and stuff. So, she decided to go to talk to someone about it.

Good idea. Right? Sure.

And that's where Steve comes in.

See, it turns out that Steve was the person that Marcy went to talk to about her marriage problems.

Why?

Because he was her minister.

Oh, that's nice. I mean, in times of stress sometimes people turn to their reli-

WHAT THE FUCK?????

Her minister?

WHAT THE FUCK?????

The dude that she's swinging with used to talk to her about God, relationships and the sanctity of marriage? 

Oh, I'm sorry, I meant to say,

WHAT THE FUCK??????

Of course, now it makes a bit of sense. I mean, he's well educated. He was a theology major. He--

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

So, as I sat there, in my family room with my trough of wine, I thought about whether I understood the situation correct. Now, she's going to see him for her marital problems. The two of them start talking a lot. And guess what? Nature takes over. The two of them get it on. Get together. I don't know, um, fuck? Who the hell knows? What I do know is that ultimately Marcy divorces her husband and the two of them get together.

Oh, and Steve's church kicks the two of them out. He's defrocked. Or de-Ministered. Or fired. Or, whatever the fuck you want to call it. He's sent packing. I'm not sure, but I think that Marcy was told not to, um, return to the holy halls of that particular church as well.

So. You have a former man of the cloth and a recent divorcee with a child who has serious mental and physical problems. 

What else would the two of them do other than get together and start fucking other people? 

Hey, we have the holy roller swinging couple here. I guess it's either swinging or going directly to HELL. I mean, no passing go, no pleading for mercy at the pearly gates, just straight to the burning place!!!!

And we were thinking of getting it on with them? AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! 

Um, nope.

Wow. I think I'm gonna need a spiritual shower after I take the regular one! Is there a Head & Shoulders for that? You know, for your spirit head?

I'm speechless.

I look at Anne.

She's speechless.

The cat?

Speechless.

Where do you go from there? I mean really? Where?

Other than out of there. Way the hell out of there. Like, Mars, for example.

But we lived there.

Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?

We live there.

And these two psychos now know where we live.

DAMN YOU FIRST RULE!!! DAMN YOU!!!!

Oh boy.

So then we got naked and fucked.

Yeah, I don't fucking think so.

Not with Father Weirdo and Mrs. Whacky-pants.

Not now. Not ever.

Eventually, when they saw that nothing was going to happen, even though they were at our house, they left.

As soon as they pulled out of the driveway I started sprinkling some holy water on the floors. The chairs. Anywhere that they were in my house. Hanging garlic. Whatever the fuck I could think of. I did NOT want these two coming back our way.

Anne and I simply glanced at each other as we watched their car get smaller in the horizon. We knew. We both knew. The next time that someone said to us about swinging, "I've got a story you're not gonna believe. . . "

"Yeah? Well, you know what? I bet I've got a story that can fucking beat it."



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 06



Note: This stand-alone story is part of our continuing swinger adventures. I hope you find at least some of these stories humorous. 

Chapter 6: In Da Club - Part I

Have you ever been to a strip club? You know, where the drinks are outrageously expensive and the women are unbelievably hot? A place where hot women with almost no clothing on are into you. You! Totally into you. No matter what you look like. No matter how you act. These hot, almost-naked women want to be your whole fucking universe. At least for the 3 ½ minutes that the song plays for. Then it's off to the another doofus for the next table dance.

Swinger clubs are nothing like this. Look, I mean, let's be honest. Strip clubs are mostly illusion. Pretty sights but ultimately you end up with nothing but frustration. Let's face it. You're not going to go home with the naked girl grinding on top of you, no matter how many dollar bills you stuff into her g-string. Swinger clubs, for better or worse, are mostly reality. Sometimes it's not so pretty. Actually, it can be rather gritty at times. But there's a pretty good fucking chance that you are going to go home with the girl. Or at least, get to the dungeon room down the hall.

Anne and I had experienced a few things with some other couples. Well, puking, priests and some soft swinging to be exact. But now we were thinking about visiting a club. Our city actually had a few clubs to choose from. A selection of fuck houses! The one that we decided to visit was called Reveal! Nice. It was a former, um, something. I don't know. I do know that they didn't build the place solely so that people could come and fuck.

We debated whether or not to go for several weeks. Could we really do this? What if we ran into someone that we knew? What if we had a REALLY bad time? A million questions. A million debates. Finally, though, our curiosity won out and we decided to go for it.

What do we wear?

Is there some type of swinger club attire? Well, actually, later on we found out that yes, indeed, there is indeed swinger wear. But what did we know? Anne decided to wear a long flowing skirt and a tight top, showing off her magnificent cleavage. I wore pants. Oh, and a shirt. I mean, really, who cares?

So, bundled up in our swinger best, we headed out one Saturday evening. The club wasn't exactly in the most upscale part of town. Would you expect it to be? But with our doors locked and our eyes peeled, we braved the streets of the wrong side of town until we arrived at our destination.

A strip mall.

Huh?

Seriously? A strip mall? But, that's where the club was. We nervously got out of the car. What if the police were there waiting for us? Wouldn't that just be great? Our faces splashed across the front page of the daily news.

PERVERTED CLUB PATRONS BUSTED!

To our relief, though, we weren't nabbed in some undercover sex sting. Instead, we safely entered the club.

Well, we entered the outer foyer of the club. We spoke to a very nice man who made us fill out a very long form asking us for lots and lots of legal-like information. Then he asked for eighty bucks.

Eighty bucks?????

Holy shakedown, batman!! Shit, those overpriced beers at the strip club didn't look so bad just then. But, I sucked it up, paid the man, and walked through the doors into the club. I thought for a brief moment that Willie Wonka was going to start singing as he led us into the chocolate room and then I would watch Augustus Gloop fall into the chocolate river.

Instead, a somewhat heavyset blond woman with big tits and a see-thru mesh shirt led us and another coupe on a tour of the club. This other couple looked just as out of place as we did. Like deer in the proverbial headlights. Well, deer that wanted to fuck, I mean. So, mesh tits led us and the other couple on a tour of the club. She led us through rooms with weird tables, rooms with multiple beds, a swimming pool area, a dance area, a bar, and an area with lots of private rooms. Oh, and there were lots of T.V.s scattered around showing porn. Mesh tits also pointed out that each of the beds had clean sheets on them. If a couple, or group, or um, mob, used the bed, then they were expected to change the sheets on the mattress before the next, uh, party used that mattress. 

Huh. Who knew that swinger clubs had better housekeeping than a Super 8 motel?

Well, anyway, we finished the tour.

And then it struck me that there were women walking around naked.

Naked women.

Walking around.

Naked. 

This was kind of surreal.

Cause men were walking around naked too.

Weird.

And not the strip club illusion type of people.

These were honest to goodness, salt of the earth people.

Buck naked.

I looked over at Anne. Her eyes were like saucers. She was trying to take it all in. We saw swings and dildos and condoms.

Oh my!

We saw lubes and whips and paddles.

Oh my!

After the tour was over, we decided to head over to the bar. Well, we headed over to the bar with our own bottle of wine. See, these clubs don't have their own liquor licenses. So it's all BYOB. But they do provide cups and juice and soft drinks. At the bar, we got two glasses of our finest cheap red and went into the main "meet and greet" area to sit and collect ourselves.

Anne and I talked about what we saw. Had seen. We were still in a bit of shock. I don't think that we believed that we were really there. That at any moment we would wake up from this weird erotic dream. And then a fat guy in a towel would saunter by and we'd want to pinch ourselves and try to wake up from this now super non-erotic nightmare.

Just kidding.

Well, not about the whole fat-guy in a towel thing.

Because there were quite a few of them.

So we sat.

And stared.

We stared at the women dancing with each other and making out. We stared at the porn playing on the big t.v. We stared at the woman giving the guy a blow job in the corner of the room.

We just stared.

I began to notice some things about the club as we sat and as it filled up with more people. There was definitely a group/clique thing going on. A group talked, danced and fucked only each other and no one else. Others, like us, who obviously didn't know anyone else, simply sat, not quite knowing what to do. Or what to say.

This was a bit different than asking a girl to dance at a party. This was going straight to third base. Home run. Fucking. With multiple people. In a semi-public place.

Oh boy.

However, perhaps these unbelievably weird, yet somehow strangely erotic situations actually helped break the ice. Because we soon began chatting with one, and then another couple. A few lost souls in this strange naked fuckland. Banded together. We spoke about random things. Where we lived. A little random stuff about kids. How many times we'd been to a club like this. 

We came from different backgrounds. We were different ages. But, apparently, we were all there to get some strange. I listened, but my eyes wandered. It was hard to focus with all this crazy shit happening right in front of me. Random naked people engaged in sex acts out of the corner of my eye. 

The other couples that we were talking to seemed normal enough. I mean, just what exactly is normal in this situation? After a bit, Anne and I got up from the table a few times to walk through the club again. You know, to see the sights. We saw women getting fucked hard in the dungeon room. We saw naked people getting it on in the swimming pool. We saw groups entering the private rooms. A cornucopia of group fucking.

I couldn't get over what we were seeing in this place. And yet, we were simple spectators in this wide world of fucking and sucking. Could Anne and I be anything more? At that point I just didn't know.

After the walkthrough, we headed back over to our little table of outcast couples. Well, that was what it felt like to me. The other couples were still there, still chatting away. A little piece of normalcy in this big naked ball of chaos.

Uh huh. Normal.

Right.

So we're sitting there with these other couples when the husband of one starts chatting with Anne and me. He and his wife were a bit older than us. In fact, he told us that they had a daughter who was in college.

Oh. Um, that's nice. Always safe to talk about kids and stuff. 

He went on to tell me that their daughter played soccer on a college team. That the reason why there were in town was because they were down to watch her play in a game the next day.

Ah. . . . Hmmmmmmm, ok.

In fact, he continued, they often went on soccer trips with her college team so that they could find new swinger clubs to go to and visit.

Um, WHAT??? Warning! Hey man, That's a yellow card penalty!!!

Ewwww.

Ok, Whatever. So, they're just a happy go lucky traveling swinger couple. So what? I mean, ok, it s little fucking creepy to do it while following your daughter's soccer team around the country, but hey, who am I to judge? I mean, really? Here I was, with my own wife, looking to hook up and fuck. Live and let live with crazy soccer dad. That's what I say!

But he wasn't done. Oh, no sir. It seems that crazy soccer dad was just warming up. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the club. Maybe it was the 6 or 7 jack and cokes that he'd slammed down with a few potato chips. But he, my friend, was ready for business. 

The fuckin' kind of business.

He started eyeballing Anne like a piece of fresh meat. He wanted those big tits of hers. He wanted to bang her like there was no tomorrow.

Of course, Anne was giving me the not-so-subtle look of "NOFUCKINGWAYINHELL ISCRAZYFUCKINGSOCCERDAD GETTINGANYWHERENEARME NOHOWNOFUCKINGWAY!!!!!!!!"

Like I said.

Subtle.

Not.

So, with a little drool coming out of the side of his mouth, Crazy turns to me and says, 

"Hey man, what do you like?"

What do I like? You mean to eat? Drink? Do I like normal people? I was almost afraid to answer.

"What do you mean?" I said back to him. A question with a question. Brilliant play Eric!

At this point, Crazy looked briefly over at his wife.

His wife?

His wife!!!

She hadn't said a thing. In fact, I kind of forgot that she was there. That this was just a solo crazy mission for Crazy soccer dad. But she was. There I mean. She was rather plain. Somewhat mousy looking in fact. I'd like to say that she was soft spoken, but hell, she hadn't said a goddamn word the entire time that we sat with them. It was Crazy and the mute.

Like a duet.

Anyway, Crazy nods his head at Silent Plain Jane and then continues.

"My wife will do anything," he says. Then he leans in, his eyes getting wide and even more drool coming out of his mouth. "Anything!"

Whoa there big boy. I think that's a red card foul for being just too fucking creepy!

Definitely a red card!!! 

So Silent Plain Jane had a freaky side! Well, at least according to Crazy she did. And now he was just kind of grinning at us. Like some kind of whacked out twisted psycho-killer.

Perfect.

"So, whaddya think," he asks. I looked at him. I looked over at Silent Plain Jane. 

And I knew that it was time to go.

Somewhere else.

I smiled. 

I looked at Crazy. I looked at Silent Plain Jane. She said nothing.

Of course.

I smiled some more.

I looked over at Anne. She was literally willing the very ground to split asunder and swallow her whole.

I mean, I could swear that she was doing that. Really. All I knew is that she wanted to get the fuck out of there. To go anywhere. Just away from Crazy.

So, I did the only thing that I could think of. I called the retreat. Full retreat men!!!

"Hey, um, you," I said. I totally forgot Crazy's real name from when he told it to me only a few minutes ago. Maybe it's because I'm bad with names. Or maybe it's because this crazy fucking soccer loving psycho freak had literally scared his very own name right out of my goddamned brain.

Whatever. I needed to eject. Now dammit, now!!!!!!

"So, um, yeah," I continued. Smooth. "We're um, walk, yeah, walk around for a bit. But, ahhhhhh, yeah. We're gonna be back, uh, later. O.k?"

And Anne and I are both slowly getting out of our seats while I'm babbling away. We're moving like I imagine you would if you were out in the savannah somewhere in Africa and came face to face with a fucking lion.

Move.Ever.So.Slowly.

Don't spook it! Don't spook it!

Anne wanted to run. I knew it. She wanted to scream and wave her arms and shout for the police to arrest this whack job. But, to her credit, she held it together. Gracefully. Beautifully. We bid our adieu and were moving. Quickly, but not too quickly.

Did Crazy or Silent Plain Jane say something to us as we moved off? Who the fuck knows. Hopefully he was working on his next target and forgot all about us.

Yikes!

To our credit though, we didn't give up. After that nutty experience we could very well have simply left the club. Chalked it up to a bad adventure and moved on. But we didn't. We decided to see who else, or perhaps what else we might meet. So we walked around the club some more. The place was now pretty packed. A great big mass of people looking for something. To watch? To play? Who knows. But, in some odd way, Anne and I seemed to enjoy it.

Somehow, we ended up at another table talking to a single guy.

What? A single guy? I don't know. Maybe he looked lonely. Maybe we looked lonely. Maybe he just liked the way that Anne looked.

Anyway, he seemed nice. Not too pushy. Just a regular guy who paid waaaay too much money to get into the club. If I thought I got ripped off I was wrong. Single guys pay twice as much as a couple to get into these clubs. That is, if the club even allows single guys to come in.

Anyway, he was a pilot.

Tom the pilot.

At least, that's what he told us.

In town, looking for a good time before his next flight out the next day.

A group of older women were staring at him.

Cougars?

Um, ah, no.

More like hippos. Hippos that wanted to be cougars. Sadly, they hadn't spent nearly enough time running through the forest. Instead it was too much time standing around the all you can eat buffet at Pizza Hut. Every once in a while one of them would ask him to dance or to go with them to talk or something. He declined. Said that he was chatting with us. The hippos glared at us. We were Tom's life-preserver. He could have fucked any one of those women.

Guess he wasn't drunk enough.

I knew that I wasn't.

So, we chatted about stuff. Swinger club stuff. We told him about the wild soccer experience from earlier in the evening. He laughed. 

We were all just chillin at the fuck club. 

We were so cool.

But, it began to get late. Anne and I knew that we were going to need to get going soon. Tom was into Anne. I could tell that Anne was digging Tom.

And me? Well, I knew that I wasn't into the Hungry Hungry Hippos.

But what was I into? I don't know. I guess I just wanted to see, well, something happen. For Anne. For me. I mean, we were here. This place. This seemed like the right place for an adventure.

We were chatting about the private rooms. Where couples or groups could go, lock the door, and not be disturbed or spied on. Tom said something about lots of memories being created in those rooms.

He looked at me.

Anne looked at me.

The hippos looked at me. Well, like they looked at me like they were imaging me turning into an extra cheese with pepperoni pie.

So I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"Well, why don't we go make our own memories?"

Cheesy? You betcha. The hippos were swooning. But it worked. Any reluctance that Anne may have had faded away. Tom smiled and led the way back to the private rooms. We weren't quite ready to be the center of attention by fucking in the public areas. 

One of the rooms was open. So we went in. It was dark. And had a bed. Well, a big mattress. I wasn't quite sure what we were supposed to do next. Other than lock the door. Which I did. When I turned back, Anne was undoing Tom's belt.

Zoinks!

He was caressing her big breasts.

They, uh, certainly didn't waste any time. I mean, I knew that Anne was horny but jeeeeeeez! And then, like magic, their clothes were off and Anne was sucking on Tom's cock.

I, on the other hand, was fully dressed.

Staring.

Snapping out of my daze, I quickly shed my clothes, got behind Anne and began licking her pussy. She was very, very wet. Obviously, this evening had turned her on quite a bit. Tom was moaning as Anne worked him over with her oral talents.

She had skillz!

Anne was moaning quite a bit as well. She really needed to get fucked!!!

And I was just the man to----

Tom moved, his cock popped out of Anne's mouth, and he quickly maneuvered Anne onto the bed.

And, just like that, they were fucking.

Huh.

This wasn't, um, quite the memory I was thinking of creating. I mean, it was kinda cool and all, but, uh, I wasn't, uh, you know. . . .

I wasn't getting laid. Fucked. Sucked. Jacked. Licked.

Nothing.

Meanwhile, Tom was fucking away. Anne was moaning REALLY loudly. Tom then moved behind her and they began fucking doggy style.

I admit. It was hot. Hot indeed!

And I had to take a leak.

WHAT?!?!?!?

In the middle of our first swinging experience? Well, let's be honest. In the middle of Anne's first swinging experience.

Shit I had to pee! I couldn't will it away. Must pee!!!

I quickly threw on my clothes. I didn't bother telling them where I was going. I don't think they could hear me anyway. I slipped out the door and quickly headed over to the bathroom area.

Naked people.

Naked people everywhere.

So why did they have separate bathrooms for men and women?

Why was I thinking about that right now? Ok, Get rid of that thought. Dumb thought. Go away. What do I think about? Hmmmmm. Everyone is looking at me. Are they wondering what kind of idiot leave a room in the middle of a hot fuck session? Are they all thinking that????

Wow. Worse thought! Worse thought!!

Ok. Done peeing. Done thinking stupid awful terrible thoughts. Zip up and get back to the action! Woooo! Action!!

I ran back to the room and slipped in the door. Just in time to hear and see Tom cum very very hard. Like rock your world hard. Like change your religion hard. Wow! Anne screamed. Well, that would be her cumming hard as well.

O.k. then! Now, um, hmmmm.

They were like two dead bodies on the bed. Must have been some orgasm. sms. Orgasms. I guess.

Huh.

After a while, Anne kind of turned and looked at me through her long sweaty hair.

"Oh, are you still here?" Ha! What a comedian that wife of mine!!

Yeah, ok.

So, Tom was well satisfied.

Anne was well satisfied.

Me? Well, um, I didn't have to pee anymore. I was ready! I was willing! I was---

But I knew.

The mood was gone. Broken. Past.

Whatever.

Clothes went back on.

Sheets were changed.

Had we changed? We had crossed a barrier.

A big one.

Were we any different?

Did we look different?

Feel different?

Nah.

We went back out to the main area of the club. People were either in the different rooms or they had gone home.

I think even the hippos had moved off to a new feeding ground.

We chatted with Tom a bit more. Made statements about meeting up again when he was next in town. Even exchanged e-mail addresses with him. Said something about e-mailing.

Did we?

Nope.

Was it fun?

I think so.

Did we learn anything? Well, yeah. That there are all sorts of people everywhere. Even in a swinger's club.

Would we go again?

Definitely.

But I would lay off the cheap wine a bit for our next visit.

Oh, and I banged Anne senseless when we got home.

After she had a chance to go pee.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 07



Note: This stand-alone story is part of our continuing adventures in swinging. I hope you find at least part of these adventures humorous. 

Chapter 7: The Stripper! 

So, one time we almost got together with a stripper.

Well, a stripper and her husband.

Almost.

Again, we met through one of the swinger websites. I made contact with him first. He seemed nice enough. Good guy. They had some kids.

And she was a stripper.

Wow! Jackpot!

That's what I'm thinking on the inside. She's a stripper so she's got to be stripper hot and stripper crazy and wear stripper clothes and have a stripper name like Candy or Busty Labelle.

I think it was Cindy. Or something like that. Cindy.

Cindy the stripper.

Ok. I can work with that.

When I approached Anne about meeting them, she was a bit less enthusiastic.

"A stripper?" she said with that voice that was really saying, "A stripper? What are you, insane?" But, to her credit, she was willing to have an open mind about meeting them.

Cindy the stripper and her husband.

One Friday night we met them for drinks. At a strip club?

No.

Friday's.

I always find it a bit odd to be sitting in a public restaurant like Friday's talking about private stuff like fucking someone else's wife. It's just a bit, um, off to me.

Call me old fashioned.

So there we were. Two couples. Two guys. Two wives. Two beers. Two glasses of wine.

One stripper.

Now, don't get me wrong. There was nothing wrong with Cindy the stripper. She was friendly. Pleasant face. Not a bad body.

But she was NOT stripper hot.

She didn't have huge stripper breasts.

She didn't have a tiny stripper waist.

She wasn't even wearing any ridiculously high stripper heels.

Jeans, tight top and some non-descript shoes.

And her husband? Pete? Ralph? Gary? I honestly don't remember him other than as "Stripper husband."

He was a bit thick in the middle and was wearing a bowling shirt. What is it with swinging and bowling shirts? With real gaudy designs on them. Like dragons and shit. Why the need to feel like you're part of a team? Team Fuck My Wife! Wooooo!!!!!

Cindy stripped at a club in a somewhat seedy part of town. I'd never been there. That was probably a good thing. She told us that she was trying to get hired by a better club. I took that to mean one with more than one sad looking dude sitting there and leering at her without slipping her a dime.

They also had a website. Cindy the stripper and husband. It seems that she would strip, fuck guys, and do who knows what over the internet. I never went to the site to see what it was about. I wasn't sure that I wanted to see what she was doing and to whom.

And we were supposed to swap with these two. Cindy the stripper/internet porn star and Bowling Shirt.

I knew Anne wasn't into it. 

I knew it before the chicken wings arrived.

But, we sat and chatted. Then Cindy began talking about being with another woman. Anne was curious about other women, but had never tried anything. She told Cindy and bowling shirt. Cindy got that look in her eye.

You know that look.

Fresh meat.

I looked over at Anne. I thought I imagined her sitting there. On a butcher block.

Bowling shirt was all relaxed. Hell, he probably filmed shit like this on a daily basis. He probably had a whole series of stripper/virgin wife with other women videos on his web site. I bet it was even called the fresh-meat series.

Anne was cool and collected. I was proud of her. Hell, I started picturing her rolling around in cooking oil with Cindy the stripper. It looked pretty good to me. 

In my head.

Then Cindy said that she needed to go to the ladies room. And she wanted Anne to go with her.

What?

Is it getting hot in Friday's or is it just me? I watched them walk away. Bowling Shirt watched them walk away. The waitress with flair watched them walk away. Were we all thinking the same thing?

THEY'RE GONNA GET IT ON IN THE LADIES ROOM!!!

WOOOOOO!!!!!!!

I didn't really have a lot to say to Bowling Shirt.

When you realize that you are not going to play with a person or couple, you just kind of disengage. Start thinking about other potential couples or other people. Or work. Or how much that goddamn babysitter is costing you. Or whether you left the stove on at home.

Whatever.

Oh, I chatted with Bowling Shirt. We talked about swinger clubs. Which ones to go to. Which ones were good. Not so good. Stuff like that. But I knew. I knew that it wasn't going to happen. At least not for the four of us. I didn't need to even ask Anne. This one was, unfortunately, a gutter ball.

Then the ladies came back to the table.

They were smiling. Like the cat that ate the canary.

Or perhaps the stripper that ate the pussy?

They sat down and proceeded to tell us that they were in the ladies room. Chatting.

And then they made out.

Score!

They made out!

They made out?

Where was I?

Where was Bowling Shirt and his camera?

Where was the cute flair waitress?

Not in the ladies room where the stripper and Anne made out!!

Fuck!!

Sadly, that was the extent of our adventure that night. We left not long after the make-out session. With promised plans to get back together and perhaps go farther.

We never did.

Bowling Shirt and I chatted online for a while. More discussion about all of us getting together. But it never happened. The conversations became less frequent. Soon they stopped altogether.

We almost got together with a stripper.

Almost. 



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 08



Note: The following stand-alone story is part of our continuing swinging adventures. I hope you find at least some of these stories humorous. 

Chapter 8: In Da Club Part II: Normal? Normal! 

I guess you could say that our first trip to a swinger's club could be considered a success. Well, somewhat of a success. You know. A bit. I mean, Anne did get laid. Me? Well, um, it was interesting to say the least. I guess it was enough of a success that we decided that we would visit another club when we had a chance.

That chance came in the form of a wedding.

No, the wedding wasn't at the swinger's club. That would be fucking gross. Well, there would be fucking. And it would definitely be gross. Perhaps the wedding party all fucking while the bride gave the groom head. Whatever. It would be weird. No, gross. Like I said before.

Anyway.

The wedding was at a farm, or an orchard or something. I really don't remember. But it was in another city from where we lived. A city with a few swinger's clubs to choose from. So, in addition to our wedding garb, we decided to pack some hot and nasty swinger clothes!

Yeah, um, no. As we realized from our first adventure out to a club, we had no swinger clothes. Hell, we were lucky that we had any clothes that didn't make us look like an Amish couple. So, on our way into town, we stopped at a mall to shop. We kind of wandered around at first. I mean, it's not likes there's a swinger store at the mall. At least, not at the mall that we went to. That would be cool though. Big Al's House of Swinging! All your favorite slutwear! Fuck me shoes! Micro-minis! Mesh tops!

We ended up in a department store to do our shopping. Penny's. Or Sears. And who are we kidding? We were shopping for Anne. Me? I could have shown up in a potato sack with a rope belt. What difference would it make? It's the ladies that are the ones putting on a show at the club.

Anyway, we're walking around the woman's clothes section of the store. And we've got nothing. No spark. No wow. No, "HOLY FUCK I WANNA RIP THAT OFF OF YOU AND RAM MY HUGE, THICK MEMBER INTO YOU UNTIL I EXPLODE!!!"

Nothing.

Until Anne said that it was time to head over to the junior miss section.

Ah Ha! Now here were the young, hip clothes! Here was Anne and lots of young hip people! And they were all showing each other cute little outfits! Fancy shoes and frilly little underwear!!

And then there was me.

Standing in the junior miss section and looking like Chester the fucking molester. I was expecting a team of mall cops to jump out and tackle my ass any second. Maybe Taser my balls just for good measure.

Hey, it was all good. Until Anne told me to hold her purse while she went to try on some tiny little clothes.

Perfect. Now the monster has a cute little purse to go along with his pure evilness. It was like time stopped and everyone was just staring at me. Little girls stopped and gawked. Moms looked like they were going to throw up -- the bile pooling in their mouths as they gaped at the middle aged dude with the purse standing in between the teen girl clothes.

I smiled. I looked down. I moved away. And found myself standing right in front of the thongs and bras.

Fuck.

At about the time that the swat team was triangulating and moving in on my position, Anne thankfully came back. In her hand she held a tiny little plaid skirt and an equally tiny sweater shirt thing. Now, I could see her shimmying into the little skirt, but there was no way that the sweater was slipping over her large breasts.

No. Fucking. Way. 

I saw fiber tearing. I saw cloth groaning as it attempted to cover her giant sweater meat.

Ha! Sweater Meat.

"It stretches," said Anne, as she looked at my face and read my mind. I had such a one track mind.

Booooobs.

"Oh." Great answer big guy. Quite the Shakespeare of English there, aren't you?

"You ok?" she asked.

"Sure," I answered as we walked by the team of security guys. I smiled their way. They gave me a death glare. 

Just peachy.

We paid for the stuff and I thought that we were done. I hoped that we were done. I didn't think that the mall police would be too happy if we weren't done.

We weren't done.

"Shoes," said Anne.

Shoes? What was wrong with her shoes? How the fuck should I know? I didn't even know what shoes she was wearing. Was she wearing shoes? Shoes?

But that's what she said she needed.

Fuck Me Shoes.

Nice. Black. Super High Heeled. Glossy. Bow on the Toe.

Fuck me shoes.

I had to admit, they made the outfit.

Tiny skirt. Tight top. And a hot pair of black fuck me shoes to finish it off.

Ok. Now that Anne had her swinger uniform, we were good to go!

Well, we were good to go to the wedding first. It was nice. I think. I mean, it was really hard to concentrate on it when I knew that in less than twenty four hours I was going to be fucking another woman!

Um, I hoped to be fucking another woman! Hmmmm, how about just seeing another woman naked!

Good enough for me!

Booooooobs!!!!

After the wedding was over, we drove to a hotel. It was close to the club. In fact, the club's website recommended this hotel.

Did the front desk people know? Did they know about the club? Did they know that we were going there? I couldn't help but think that they looked at us just a little, uh, differently when we checked in.

"Psssst, Marge!"

"Yeah Bob?"

"I got another couple for that fuck place checking in right now!"

"Hello? Right here! We can hear you!"

"Here's your *snicker* room key sir. . . not that you're *snort* gonna need it!"

Yeah, great. Well, after that horrifying experience (at least in my mind) we went up to the room to change for the evening.

Anne looked fantastic. A walking wet dream. The skirt was micro short. And she was right. The top did stretch. But her huuuuuge boobs looked even huger-er. And to top it off?

Fuck me shoes.

I wanted to take her right there on the hotel room floor.

Me? Chinos and a button down. Like I said, who fucking cares what the dude is wearing??

"Holy cow! That guy over there is on fire! Right over there! In the corner!!!!"

"Who gives a shit? Is his wife hot?"

Anyway, my hot looking wife and I headed out. Past the giggling front desk folks ("fuck you two, I'm going to get laid, bitches!") and out into the night.

The club's website was correct. It was only a few minutes from the hotel. Was it in the best part of town? What do you think? It's a fucking swinger club, not a goddamn country club.

It was in a shitty part of town. I think Anne and I hit the power door lock at the same time. But swinging isn't for the faint-hearted!! We would prevail! We would conquer!

We would quickly drive into the fenced in lot and pray to all that was holy that our car would still be there when we left the club later that night.

Walking in, we saw the typical entrance (just a little area with a window to fill out the forms and hand over the cash), paid our fees and went in. 

And were pleasantly surprised. I mean, it wasn't your typical swinger club. You know, big empty rooms, some chairs scattered around a dance area, porn playing on some t.v.'s and then the private rooms off to the side for fucking.

This was more of the feeling of a house party. It was smaller. Cozier. Dare I say, even quaint? Well, maybe not quaint. I mean, it is a swing club. 

But it was packed. Really. Packed with people. All seemingly having a good time. Anne and I walked around, checking out the scene. The people were talking, the people were dancing and better yet, the people seemed like regular people.

Weird.

In fact, this could have been a party anywhere. Just a group of folks getting together and having some drinks and some good conversations.

Until I looked over at one point and saw a woman standing naked in a room talking to some other people. Not that I minded. Because she had a rather big set of tits and was kinda hot. But it did jolt me out of my reverie of believing that this was just a regular, everyday party. This was a swing club and these people were here to swing baby!

Well, Anne and I didn't know a soul. So we walked around again. Checking things out. It was not easy to mingle. Well, we're not good at mingling. More specifically, not good at mingling at swing clubs. You think there's a class on that?

"Oh, hi there. Nice to meet you. Wonderful weather we're having these days. Can your wife swallow my fuck sausage now please?"

Anyway, after non-mingling for a while, we soon found ourselves in one of the smaller rooms of the club that also happened to have a pool table in it. This was good. We knew how to play pool! We wouldn't look like complete bozos doing it. Perhaps we could play some pool and meet people! A fantastic idea. 

Of course, about thirty other people had the exact same fantastic idea.

So, we stood around. Kinda of looking at other people. Kind of not. It's a weird vibe. We all know why we're there. And yet, we all act shy and pretend that we're simply mingling and not, you know, checking out boobs or crotches and wondering what it would be like to fuck that hot woman or man standing across the room. 

Soon though, we got some pool cues and we were playing pool. 

Yes!

And we played.

Pool.

Hell, I could have done this at a local bar and saved a shitload of money getting into the club. But, Anne and I were having a good time, even if we weren't, um, connecting with anyone? We weren't mingling.

Until we started mingling.

Wait. What?

I'm not quite sure how it happened. We had played a game against one couple. I don't think they spoke a word to us other than, "You wanna play?" Fortunately, we beat them at eight ball and they moved on to another room. So we began playing with the next couple waiting to get on the table. The guy was taller than me and a bit stocky. His wife was about the same height as Anne, brown hair and big tits.

I always look at the tits.

What can I tell you? I'm a guy.

More importantly, however, we began talking to them. A real honest to goodness conversation about everyday life! They had names! Jay and Sherry! And they were nice! Holy shit Jay and Sherry the pool playing couple were nice!

I have to admit. We were a little spooked. Based on recent experiences, we kept on waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like it turns out that they were actually brother and sister. Or perhaps they were on the run from the law for killing an entire school bus filled with monks or something. 

Something.

But, we just chatted. And hung out. They were very low key about the whole swinging scene. 

Same as us.

They had not had many swinging experiences.

Same as us.

She had a nice big set of knockers.

Same as, um, well, Anne!

Soon enough, though, they beat us as pool. Damn you nice pool playing shark couple! As there were others waiting, we couldn't continue to play and chat. Jay and Sherry stayed at the table and Anne and I decided to walk around the club a bit to see who or what else was there.

If I thought it was crowded before, I was wrong. It was really crowded now. But the place still had a good party vibe. Again, no fucking on the tables, just people dancing and drinking and having fun. Anne and I talked about Jay and Sherry as we wandered through the club.

"So what do you think?"

"What do you think?"

"I asked you first."

"Yeah, but I asked you."

I think we had that same conversation about twenty-seven times before we ended up back where we started. In the pool room. Jay and Sherry were still there, chatting in the corner. We walked back over to them and picked up where we left off.

Jay soon pointed out to me that the shirt that Sherry was wearing was long enough to be considered a dress. A short dress, but a dress nonetheless. I guess. She was wearing a wraparound black skirt as well because she wasn't sure if she wanted to be wearing just the short shirt/dress around.

"Show 'em honey," he asked her.

"Ok," she shyly responded. Jay was very persuasive. And she was very cute. And did I mention the big melons? With the quick rip of Velcro, the black skirt came off. Sure enough, the shirt was a dress. Very nice. I felt like I should ask Anne to take something off as well, but there just wasn't that much to her slutty little outfit to begin with. I noticed that Jay was eyeballing Anne's big breasts as I was mentally taking inventory of her clothes. Glad to see that we had similar tastes!

So, we were chatting. We were getting along, and another woman had already taken off a piece of clothing! This was great! This was awesome! This was smoky.

Smoky?

Yep. As in, filled with smoke.

No, the club was not on fire. It was just that people were smoking. A lot of them. What is it with swinging and smoking? Jay and Sherry, like us, did not smoke. We were soon commenting on it. That's when Jay said that the second floor of the club was specifically non-smoking.

Really? Great! Let's go! So we went up to the second floor. It was definitely less smoky. But really, where did the owners of the club think all of that smoke was gonna go? However, it was definitely easier to breathe and see Sherry's boobs.

Mmmmmmm, boobs.

So we chatted and drank. Well, I know that Anne and Sherry were drinking some wine. I was driving so I had a coke. It was very relaxed. We talked about our swinging experiences and what we were looking for.

What we were looking for? Naked women!! Wooo.

Well, in my head I was saying that. I'm sure I mumbled something about everyone having a good time and that we were just looking to have fun and not a lot of stress.

Blah, blah, blah.

I wanted to see some boobies! I wanted someone to swallow me down to my berries! I wanted. . . 

Anyway.

The problem with swinging is that the lady is in control. That's the reality. I could have wanted a supermodel to come out, sit on my face and wiggle. But if Anne wasn't into it, then it wasn't gonna happen. That's just one of the rules of swinging.

The Second Rule of Swinging. The woman is always in control.

Sorry guys, but she calls the shots. You may be the co-pilot, but she the one that tells you when to take off and when to land. So while I could certainly see myself taking stuff off with Sherry, I had no idea what Anne was thinking about in regard to Jay. She was a bit less than specific during our deep conversation of "What do you think? I don't know, what do you think?"

So there I sat. And pondered. Oh, I was still engaged in idle chit chat. But the real conversation was going on inside my head. The same one that I imagined was going on in Jay's head as we sat with these two scantily clad ladies.

"So when can we go upstairs to the private rooms? Man, I really wanna see her naked. I wanna slide my cock in between those luscious flesh pillows. I wanna stick my tongue so far up her pussy that I lick her tonsils. I wanna hear her scream like a banshee as she orgasms for the fourth time on my rock hard flesh missile. I wanna. . ."

You get the idea. It was quite a conversation going on in my head. Well, monologue. 

As I tried to refocus my energy on the conversation with Jay and Sherry, I caught the tail end of a conversation about wondering what the rooms on the third floor looked like.

HELLO! Um, excuse me? Can we rewind a bit so I can hear that whole "let's go upstairs" thing again?

Of course, I couldn't say that because then Anne would know that I was completely zoned out and thinking about smushing my face deep into Sherry's large cleavage. So, I had to act naturally. You know, wait for the conversation to progress to actually going upstairs to check out the private rooms. With beds. And sheets. And bowls filled with condoms.

I drained my coke.

Chewed on some ice.

It was like waiting for a water to boil. I decided I needed to stop looking at the kettle and so I excused myself to grab another coke from the kitchen area of the club.

Yes, this club had a kitchen area. I told you it was like some weird house party.

Anyway, I headed downstairs and as I'm in the kitchen getting another coke, this guy walks up to me.

"Hey," he said, "I saw you walking around the club before." He paused. "Was that your wife with you?"

I looked at him. Seemed normal enough. "Yeah," I answered. "This is our first time here and we were just checking the place out."

"Well, she's hot," he said. He looked out of the kitchen area and pointed to a woman standing in the next room. "That's my wife." 

I looked over. The woman he was pointing at was good looking. Very, actually.

"If you guys wanted to um, get together," he continued, "we would really be into that."

WHAT?? Are you kidding me? I've spent all this time trying to just get together with one couple and now it seems they're falling out of the fucking sky at me? Is this a joke? Where's the camera? This kind of shit just doesn't happen to me. Two hot women that I could maybe, perhaps, like almost get together with? I mean, Sherry is upstairs, waiting and seems ready to get naked. Maybe. Possibly? And now down here is a hot woman and husband who want to get it on. Like now? What to do! What to do? 

And then I realized that he was staring at me.

Fuck! How long has this conversation been going on in your head you moron??? Say something!! Say something!!

"So, um, what do you do?"

What do you do? What kind of fucking comment is that you dope? This isn't a goddam job interview shithead! This is a chance to fuck some other woman while your wife gets pounded next to you! Are you gonna ask him what kind of car he drives next? Loser.

"Actually," he said. "I'm in the government." He paused. "So I don't like to talk about what I do."

Huh? What is he, a goddamned spy? Does he have a license to kill? Who cares what the fuck he does? Ok, now the little red "weirdo" flag is starting to go up. I'm in the government? For all I know, that means he's a freakin' toll booth attendant.

"Um, oh. Uh, ok," I answered. What the fuck else do you say after you get that kind of verbal slap down?

"So, anyway," he says, looking at me. Uh, oh. Decision time. Is it the sure, but possibly whacked out of their fucking heads, thing with this guy and his wife or back to the normal, but possibly nothing actually happening thing with Jay and Sherry?

I'm going normal! Alex, I'll take normal for one thousand dollars!!

"Um, yeah, well, we're kind of chatting with another couple upstairs and, um, well, we may be heading up to, uh, one of the rooms, ah, soon. So. . . "

Smooth.

"Really?" he said. "Up to one of the rooms?" His whole face lit up.

Uh oh.

"Could we maybe join you guys?"

Say what? This foursome becomes a, um, sixsome? Is that even legal? Six of us? Will we fit in the room? Is that an orgy? Am I ready for an orgy? Does Anne want an orgy?

Will you stop with the fucking internal conversations!!!

"Well, um, ah, I don't know, but maybe," I replied as I began to walk out of the room. With my coke. I didn't stop to hear a response. I just went. I scurried back up to the second floor. 

I admit it. I panicked. I just did not know how to handle the scene. Some cool smooth guy would have had all the ladies naked and been banging away in some giant writhing mass of female flesh, but me? Well, I'm an idiot who overthinks things WAAAY too much. And I couldn't wrap my head around trying to introduce this new couple to Anne, Jay and Sherry.

I went back over to where they were still sitting and Anne gave me one of those, "Where have you been?" kind of looks. Not a look like, "I'm gonna kill you cause I need to get away from these freaks!" It was more of a, "Hey, I'm having a good time with these people and you're missing it" kind of looks.

Or perhaps she was just pretty buzzed from the cheap wine and simply smiled at me when I sat down.




Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 08



"So what did I miss?" I asked. I briefly debated whether to tell them about my conversation with the G-Man, but I decided that it wasn't worth it. Besides, it might kill the mood with the possible inclusion of another couple. If there was a mood.

Was there a mood? I'm not sure if I could sense a mood. Fuck! What if I killed the mood by going downstairs? Stupid Coke products!!! Always killing the mood!!! Why couldn't I just have a beer or some cheap wine!!!!!

"So, we were thinking of checking out a room upstairs," said Anne.

HELLO!

I love this mood! This is the best goddamn fucking mood on the entire freakin planet!!!

"Oh, um, yeah, aahhhh, well, uh, ok, sure." 

That my friends, is why I get the ladies! My silver tongue!

So, the four of us got up and headed up the stairs to the third floor. This was it. The promised land! Private rooms with beds! Tons of fucking and sucking! An erotic dream unlike any I'd ever witnessed before! A veritable cornucopia of debauchery and. . .

Doors.

Lots of closed doors.

Oh no. Don't do this to me. Not now. Please don't let all the rooms be taken. Oh no.

"Um, hey God? It's me, Margaret. I mean, um, Eric. Yeah, uh, y'know, I don't think I've ever asked you for much. Well, let me put it another way big guy. I don't think I've ever asked you for something and meant it this much. Could you, um, you know, help us get an empty room? Please?"

"I think that room is open," said Jay, pointing to one at the end of the hall.

As I looked up and mouthed a silent 'Thank You' we walked in. It was small and tight. But it had a mattress on the floor. Two of them in fact. A small lamp sat on an equally small dresser. The sheets looked rather threadbare and the carpeting was frayed.

It was perfect.

It was about this point that I noticed two things. The first was that my wife was rather buzzed. Drunk. Not falling down blasted, but giggly and happy and uninhibited kind of drunk. Thank you cheap red wine! 

This, of course, led to the second thing that I noticed about Anne. She was very, very horny. How did I know this? She was rubbing against me and nibbling on my ear. Oh yes, she was primed and ready to go! 

So.

Well, how do we start this? I looked at Jay and he looked at me. We were both newbies and didn't have a clue as to how to get the ball rolling. Fortunately, the ladies took care of this for us.

"I've always wanted to try being with another woman," said Anne as she walked over to Sherry and the two of them quickly starting making out.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod

As Jay and I watched, Anne and Sherry proceeded to strip down.

Naked.

Un Fucking Believable. 

Oh, but it didn't stop there my friends. Oh no! Because once they were naked, Sherry began licking Anne's big titties. Sucking and licking them. All over. Then she started going lower. And lower. And lower.

Gentlemen, we have achieved pussy licking. We have achieved pussy licking!

Anne was moaning and thrashing around.

I think I was crying. Tears of joy that is.

As I wiped my runny nose on my sleeve I looked over at Jay. He was mesmerized. Like a statute. Instead of looking at medusa's head, he'd looked at two super-hot naked women pleasuring each other.

And he likey!!

Anne came. Hard. Like screaming orgasm hard. She collapsed in a sweaty quivering mess and rested for a bit.

And then they switched places.

Did you hear me? THEY SWITCHED PLACES!!! One more time for the folks in the cheap seats. THEY SWITCHED PLACES!!! There was more! Oh my sweet god there was more!

If my cock was any harder it would have simply snapped off in my pants.

*CRACK!!*

"What was that?"

"Just my super rock hard cock cracking off. Don't worry about it. You go back to licking that muff dear."

I'm please to say that Anne was a natural at pussy licking. She had Sherry moaning and thrashing in no time and soon she too shuddered through a mighty orgasm.

After she too collapsed into a sweaty mess and rested for a bit, the two ladies looked at us.

"So how come the two of you aren't naked yet?" asked Anne.

Jay and I looked at each other. A very good question indeed. So, roughly two point four nano-seconds later, we were. I went over to Anne and Jay went over to Sherry. I'm not sure if we were ready to take the next step yet. Well, I think we were ready. I mean, I was ready. Fuck, why wasn't I with Sherry?

No, actually, remembering rule number two, I kind of followed Anne's lead. She looked at me and I kind of got the vibe that she wanted to fuck me at that point and not Jay. At least, not yet. So we did. We fucked. And so did Jay and Sherry.

And it was good. It was fun. It was what I imagined a swinging encounter would be. Low stress. Fun time. As we were getting dressed we exchanged email addresses and talked about getting together again soon.

And we did.

On the way out of the room, I thought I saw the G-man knocking on another door. 

Perhaps he thought we were in there. 

Sorry man, I bet on normal and it was out-FUCKING-standing!



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 09



Note:  This stand-alone story is part of our continuing swinging adventures.  I hope you find at least some humor in these stories.

Chapter 9:  In Da Club Part III – Wax on, whacks off, Daniel-san

When we moved north, we had to find a new swing club to go to.  

Oh, we moved north.  Didn't I tell you that?  

Well, we did.

Try to keep up.

Anyway, there are sites on the web that list swing clubs in different states.  It's awesome.  

I love the internet!  

One stop shopping for all your deviant, wacked-out fuck needs!

And everyone has at least a few fuck needs.

So, we located this club in our new town.  Swinger Couple Fantasy Club. SCFC.  Well, it certainly sounded good.

On the internet.

The pictures looked good.  Rooms with beds in them.  A main room with some chairs and a dance floor.  A small bar area.  Your typical place to pick up random people to fuck.

Although we looked at some other clubs that were also in the area, Anne and I decided that we would try SCFC.  It was mid-October when we finally found a weekend that would work.  Chilly, but not yet snowing out.

So, on a Saturday evening in the middle of October, we set off on another swinger club adventure.

And drove right to a strip mall.

Ugh.  Seriously?

Now, granted, it was on the other side of town, at least 45 minutes away.  We didn't know a soul.

But, it was still in a strip mall.

Why?  Who the fuck knows.  Maybe the rent was really cheap.  Maybe they wanted to be able to go next door to the Blockbusters without walking too far.  Whatever.

But it certainly met creepy factor number one.  Strip mall swinger club?  Creepy.

But, we parked and steeled ourselves for the adventure.

As Anne and I got out of our car, we noticed that it was quite crowded.

Huh.

Saturday night at a strip mall and its really crowded?  Ok, first thought is that this is one HAPPENING swinger's club.  Woooo!!!  Cannot wait to party!

But then we noticed that a lot of these people were dressed in costumes.  No, not slutty hooker stuff that a lot of the women wear to clubs.  No, this was monsters and aliens and spidermans.

uh, men.

Um, and, uh, why do so, uh, many of these people look like. . . 

Kids?

Anne and I began to frantically look around.  And almost immediately spotted the haunted house.  Located about 500 feet from the entrance to the swinger's club.

Wow.

Now, the swinger club didn't have a big neon sign on it blinking,

FUCK HOUSE!

But, it was on the second story of the strip mall.  So, there was a nice line of men and women going up some rickety outside stairs.  And, you guessed it, some of the women were dressed, um, kind of slutty.  And all of the guys had something in their hands.  Paper bags with bottles of booze; little coolers filled with multiple six-packs.  Whatever their drink of choice, they had it in a bag.

And, not more than 500 feet away from the sex processions, a huge line of people, families, kids, all waiting in line to head into the strip mall house of terror.  Ok, so some of the women in that other line were dressed kinda slutty too.  But for each one of these women, there were like three little Princess Jasmines standing next to them.

Hey, guess what?

Creepy factor number two!!!  Swinger club right next door to family entertainment.  

Yuck!

As Anne and I stood there, debating what to do, I could almost imagine the two groups staring at each other like some fucked-up, drug induced version of the Sharks and the Jets, ready to rumble down by the strip mall.

Just as I was starting to snap my fingers and break into a stunning yet snappy rendition of "America," Anne said,

"Well, let's go in.  I don't want to hang out here too long.  It's kind of creepy."

No shit.

So, up the swinger steps we scampered.  I swear some little girl dressed like a Care Bear pointed at me and asker her dad where we were going.  I shut that image out of my brain as best as I could and we entered the magical world of fucking!

Well, we entered the foyer area.

Again.

To fill out the mountain of forms.

Again.

Ok.  We won't do any drugs.  We won't take any pictures of people doing it.  We're not police officers looking to bust the place, blah, blah, blah.

Now, I could be wrong, but it seems to me that if the police wanted to take down the club, some stupid little form wouldn't do all that much to stop them.

"Well, we were gonna go in and arrest some people for prostitution and public indecency, but gosh darn it sarge, they had a form!!"

"No!  Really?"

"Yep, Couldn't do a darn thing!"

Not that I think that all swinger clubs have prostitution or drug use or whatever going on in them.  Do some of them?  Sure.  But so does the fucking park down the street, and we're not rushing to close all of them down.

As for closing them down because they're places where people go to have sex?  Fuck you.  Consenting adults making a choice to have sex with a willing partner or partners all in one fun little place?  It's their choice.  How's it any different than picking someone up in a bar and going somewhere to fuck.  Ok, the drinks are cheaper.  But the cover is a lot more expensive.  Oh, and there's a ton of people having sex right there.  Otherwise, no difference!

Leave people alone.  A good motto for more people to try and live by.

Whew.

Sorry for the rant.

So we filled out our ream of paperwork.  Paid our eighty bucks and then entered the flesh fantasy world of fucking!

Right?

Not so much.

This was not like a club that we were used to.  We entered what seemed to be just one big room.  Almost like a classroom.  After looking around for a bit, we noticed that there was a hallway that ran around this main room.  Small rooms were off of this hallway.

We learned all of this on our obligatory tour of the place.  Some of the small rooms had mattresses in them.  One of the rooms had some weird contraption in it that a woman sat on.  Or splayed out over.  I don't really fucking know what it was.  I think it was a sex swing.  Or maybe a kite.  

Another room had a bunch of sex toys that could be purchased.

It was like a little swinger gift shop.

Awesome.  "I went to the swinger's club and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!"

We noticed a few things as we walked around the club.  A lot of the side rooms had doors with glass in them.  Little Venetian blinds stopped people from looking in.  Mostly.

And there were a lot of posters on the walls.  Some were porn related.

But a lot were about karate.

And there was a trophy case.  Filled with trophies.

You guessed it.

Karate.

I think that Anne and I came to the realization at about the same time.

We're in a goddamned Karate studio.

Oh.My.God.

Oh, it got worse.  Because when you looked closer, it became pretty obvious that this wasn't just a karate studio by day.

It was a kid's karate studio by day.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Hmmmmm, and that would be creepy factor number three!

Million.  Three FUCKING million!

So, some of these little rooms were where kids would come and practice breaking boards and shit, and now mattresses were tossed into them so that people could fuck.

Yuck.

I threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Anne told me, in no uncertain terms, that we would NOT be using any of the rooms that evening.  Or ever.

No shit.

At that point all I wanted to do was dunk my brain into a vat of hand cleanser and scrub.  Vigorously.  Playing with another couple in this place wasn't exactly high on my "to do" list for the night.

As opposed to simply crashing through the wall to escape like the giant pitcher of Kool-Aid, we decided to walk around the place for just a bit longer.  After all, we did fork over eighty bucks for the fan-fucking-tastic experience in karate-town.

Well, we learned that the theme for the night at the SCLC was the Roaring Twenties.  What the fuck is up with that?  Why do I want to dress up like a gangster?  Ever?  But there they were.  A bunch of dudes in suspenders, zoot suits and funky hats.

Great.

I wonder if they knew karate too?

Anne and I got some chips and decided to go sit down in the main room.  All I could imagine were a bunch of kids doing warm up exercises exactly where we were.

GAAAAAA!!!!!!

We sat at a cheap fold up table.  It had some stupid decorations on it.  Even the porn on the tvs sucked.  The whole place was giving me the major willies.  So we sat.  And tried not to touch anything.


To say that we were freaked out was a major understatement.

And then?

She sat down.

She?

Well, the 60-year old woman.

In her roaring twenties outfit.

The outfit?

A big string of pearls.

A garter belt thing on her thigh.

Nothing else.

She was buck naked.

Buck Fucking Naked.

And she plopped her buck fucking naked ass right down at our table.

Next to Anne.

The woman began chatting away.  About what?  Not a fucking clue.  You see, she was naked.  Did I tell you that already?  And she was sixty.  And Naked.  Nay-kid.

Flabby Flapper could have been explaining the cure for goddamned cancer for all I knew.  I could only stare.  I knew that I shouldn't.  I knew that I should simply look away.

But I couldn't.

Flapper had me under her naked sixty-year old spell.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Anne was pushing her little plate of chips away.  She looked like she was gonna hurl.

Naked sixty year woman in pearls.

There was some announcement by the cheesy DJ about a dance or contest or something.

Naked.  Old.  Woman.

I snapped.  I broke.  I flinched, blinked and folded.  I couldn't deal with this situation anymore.  This was it.  The coup de grace of creepy.  The king of creepy.  The mayor of creepy fucking town.  

No more.

I give.

I grabbed Anne's hand.  And pulled her away from the table.  As she flew through the air, I said our goodbyes to Flapper.  And her nakedness.  Her naked-ocity.  

We left.  Did we run, RUN! out of the club SLASH karate studio?

Maybe.

I think I may have been hyperventilating a bit.  I seem to recall Anne asking me what took so fucking long for us to get the hell out of that house of horrors.

Whatever.  We were out.  I didn't look over at the haunted house line.  I couldn't bear to see some little kid dressed like Simba from the Lion King giving me the evil eye for doing such evil unspeakable things inside his poor karate studio.

We jumped into the car and took off, tires squealing in the strip mall parking lot.  We got home, ran inside, showered for about three hours and then spent the rest of night simply holding each other tightly.  Needless to say, the SFSC club was crossed off of our list of places to go.  Permanently.

I did hear that a few years after our adventure, the club was raided and shut down by the police.

I guess that the form didn't work out quite like they hoped it would.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 10



Note: This stand-alone story is part of our continuing adventures in swinging. I hope you find at least some of the these stories humorous. 

Chapter 10: Uh, I'm with the band. 

You hear a lot of folks who are into this whole swinging thing say that they want to find people that they can "just hang out with." You know. Watch a game. Go to the movies. Jerk off together. 

Just some good old "hangin' out" kind of stuff. 

Well, we hadn't really found that. The hangin' out type. Sure, we met some nice folks, but no one that we really had a lot in common with that we could say we wanted to do stuff with. I mean, besides fucking.

One time, I started chatting with a couple that had a very odd swinger name. It was weird but it looked very familiar. After I thought about it for a while, I realized that the couple had a nickname that was the title of a song by one of my favorite rock groups, Stillwater.

[Ok, ok, I know that I picked the name Stillwater from a movie and that its a fictional rock band from a movie. It's pretend. I get it. Trust me, it's ok. Not knowing the real name of the band won't hurt anyone. Well, maybe it could hurt the real band now that all of you are reading this story and won't immediately run to your computer and download tons of the band's songs from music websites. Oh well. Stillwater it is.]

Anyway, the husband, Dean and I were both HUGE Stillwater fans. Dean's wife, Kate, was also a big fan. In fact, I think they named one of their kids after the title of another one of Stillwater's songs.

Like I said, big fucking fans!

So we chatted for hours about the band and their music. Here was another couple that had the same interests as me! A couple that I could "hang with" outside of the bedroom! Do some "non-sex" stuff with!!

Anne? Well, honestly she could give a shit about Stillwater or their music. What can I say? I mean, they just weren't her cup of tea. She's more of a black metal kind of a chick. Razorblades. Blood. Virgin sacrifice. That kind of thing.

Nah. I kid.

But, the fact was that she didn't like Stillwater. Still doesn't. I mean, she would listen because she knew that I liked them, but shouldn't put their music on her iPod or play one of their CDs if given the choice. But, because I listen, she did too.  

Well, maybe with one ear.

I chatted with Dean and Kate off and on for a few months. We shared pictures of ourselves. They liked what they saw and so did we. Kate was a cutie and I could definitely see myself naked with her! The problem was that they didn't live too close to us, and it seemed that our schedules simply wouldn't allow one of us to try and go visit the other for some fun. We were all getting a bit frustrated and I know that I thought about simply giving up on them and seeing if we could find someone else to play with. Someone closer.

And then Stillwater came to town!

Well, they were going to come to town. Our town! 

Being a little known band that didn't have millions of followers, it really wasn't all that easy for them to put together a tour. So when they did go out on the road and announce dates of where they were going to play, it was a big deal in the little Stillwater community.

Not so much in the swinger community. 

Swingers, to some extent, are a reflection of society at large. I mean, you have police that are swingers. Teachers. Factory workers. Rich people. Poor people. Good looking people. Those that, um, aren't, and any other type of person that you could imagine.

And, like the rest of society in general, swingers could give a shit about Stillwater.

But I didn't care. I was pumped. And, after a bit of prodding, I convinced Anne that we should go to the show. Knowing how much going to a live show meant to me, Anne agreed to go with me.

Wooo!!!

More importantly, Dean and Kate also found out that Stillwater was coming to our town. Suddenly schedules seemed to clear up. They were free! They would come to visit!

ROCK AND ROLL!!!

Ok. What to do? What to wear? Where to meet?

The band was going to be playing at a little club downtown. A shitty little club in a shitty area of town. Once it was pretty nice. Both the club and the area. Now? Did I mention it was shitty? Not the best area to try to meet up with other people. Well, at least if you didn't want to get robbed.

So, we went with plan B. We met them at our house and fucked the night away!!!

No. Sushi.

We met for sushi.

I like sushi. So does Anne. And, fortunately for us, so did Dean and Kate. We met them at a pretty nice place in a better part of the city. Anne dressed in a nice tight pair of pants and an even tighter shirt. I was in the man-armor of swinging. Chinos and a button down.

They got to the restaurant first. I was impressed, knowing that they had driven in from out of town. We recognized them from their pictures and after a brief and somewhat awkward hello, we sat down at a table. Kate looked good. She was dressed in a tight little black outfit. I stared at her breasts as she wondered out loud what she should order from the menu.

Fish and tits.

HA!

I kill me.

Anne was looking at the drink menu. I could tell she was nervous. She always was when we met a new couple. And I was mister cool with ice water in my veins. Right. I think I'd already eaten about a thousand breath mints.

Anne ordered a lemon drop. Nothing like a little vodka and sugar to calm the nerves! Kate joined her. For both a first and a second. Those were some damn good lemon drops!

Anne usually doesn't drink much. Either with swinger couples or, um, without. One glass of wine is normally enough to get her really feeling good. Two vodka drinks? Wow. She was definitely feeling no pain. One more and she probably would have been dancing naked on the hibachi table. I was drinking cold sake and Dean put away a few beers. Alcohol and swinging! Like chocolate and peanut butter!

How was the food? How the fuck should I know? I think it was good. Or, it could have tasted like complete shit. Didn't really make a difference. We spoke of mundane things. Like Stillwater. And rainbows. Nice safe subjects that kept us away from why we were really there.

Sex.

But it was out there. Waiting.

I couldn't get a good read on Anne. Normally I could tell. One look and I knew. Either they were in or out. There really wasn't a lot of black and white with Anne and fucking other people. With Dean and Kate though, she was a mystery. I thought about telling them to get lost for a while so I could talk to Anne about how things were going but I couldn't figure out an easy way to do it.

"Hey, um, Dean and ah Kate? Would you guys like, you know, go to the bathroom, uh, right now? You know, so um, ah, Anne I could ah, talk about, you know, whether she wants to fuck you or, ah, thank you for driving a few hundred miles and then say no freakin' way? Oh, and do you guys wanna order s'more spicy tuna rolls? Those are fucking awesome!" 

But, that didn't happen. So, after a little bit more booze, raw fish and conversation about nothing, we finished up at the restaurant and headed down to the club for the Stillwater show.

WOOOOOO Stillwater!! 

Now, I've been to a lot of rock concerts in my day. I've been to sold out stadiums with tens of thousands of screaming fans. I've been to small clubs where a crowd of only a few hundred people has been just insane. The energy of rock concerts is usually unbelievable.

After we parked and met up with Dean and Kate again, we walked quickly to the club and found. . .

Silence.

Oh, don't get me wrong, the show was still going to go on. People were heading inside. But it had all the energy of a quilting bee. 

Seriously, it was a crowd of nerdy looking dudes who were mouthing the lyrics of their favorite Stillwater song. Almost chanting. Like monks.

It certainly had the feel of a monastery.

But that wasn't going to bring me down. I was here with two hot women and I was filled with cheap Japanese alcohol. Fuck it! 

We had standing room only tickets for the upstairs part of the club and headed that way. We passed lots of guys heading to their seats downstairs. We passed a lot of guys talking on the stairs and we passed a lot of guys hanging out upstairs waiting for the show to begin.

Hmmmmmm. . . 

And then I noticed that a buzz seemed to go through the crowd.

"There are two women here!!!! Two HOT women!!!!"

Seriously, there was maybe one woman here for every twenty guys. Did the ladies really hate Stillwater that much? My respect for Anne went up just a little bit more! I mean, for taking one for the tean and going with me. She must really love me! So, here were two good looking dressed up women in a room filled with hundreds of goofy guys. They were looking at the two of them like cute little fuzzy bunnies in the python tank.

We found a spot and just kind of hung out and waited for the show to start. We still weren't really talking about much. You know. The sex thing. Zippo.

I was starting to wonder if it was gonna happen at all.

The thought was still lingering in my head as the lights dimmed and the show began.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. . . STILLWATER!!!

Of course there was no band to open for them. These guys could barely afford roadies. How the fuck could they afford to pay another band?

But they were good. I will give them that. The boys on stage could ROCK! At least I thought so. I was groovin' to the music. Feeling the beat. Jammin' to the tunes. Whatever.

And that's when the sex started. 

The sex talk. 

I mean, in the middle of a song Dean and Kate are suddenly chatting away about swapping, fucking and sucking. Well, I wasn't going to let this moment slip away, so I joined in. Our conversation got quite animated and I was getting quite excited about the prospect of getting naked with Kate. She was looking better and better to me. Domo origato mister sake-o!

But, I guess our conversation was getting just a bit too rowdy.

"SSSSSHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Huh? What?

I looked around. Why the fuck am I being shushed at a fucking rock concert? Seriously? What section are we standing in? The library? I found myself staring at one irate looking dude. With his irate looking dude friends. They were all guys. 

Obviously.

"Do you mind?" Librarian one said in a very loud stage whisper.

"What?" I said back in a loud voice. After all, there was a FUCKING ROCK BAND PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND!!!!

"Could you keep it down?" Librarian one said, using the same goofy stage whisper that he did before.

Librarian two jumped in as well. I think he had a shirt on that said "Captain Picard is Cooler than Captain Kirk!"

"Yeah, we drove a long way to hear these guys," Librarian two also said in the same moronic stage whisper while gesturing to the stage. "And you guys," he said, pointing at us, "are ruining it!"

Ruining it? Ruining a rock concert by talking? 

Wow. 

I've seen people passed out from drugs and alcohol on the floor lying in beer, piss and their own puke at a rock concert. 

Now that's ruining it. 

Talking loudly? You have got to be fucking kidding me.

"Calm down man," said Dean. He apparently also thought these guys were fucking whackos.

"SSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Oh boy. Just what we need. To get into a fight with Steve Urkel and his rock star posse. What were they gonna do? Challenge us to a dungeons and dragons death match?

Instead, we simply decided to move to another part of the upstairs area of the club. The music continued to play loudly and I was still feeling good from all of the alcohol I had put away with dinner. During one of the slower, softer songs, things changed.

A lot.

Dean suggested that perhaps we should 'switch partners' for a while.

Switch partners? What, were we square dancing? What did he mean? I noticed that Kate was looking at me and smiling.

OOOOHHHHHHH. Palm slap to head. Switch partners!

I'm a little slow sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. 

Whatever.

I looked over at Anne. She looked back at me. I didn't see a burning desire to go forward with Dean's plan. Of course it was dark and smoky in the middle of the club and I really couldn't see shit.

But. . . she wasn't saying no!

So, I decided to give the ok.

"Um, ah, sure, I guess, uh, why not?" 

Pretty decisive, huh.

I looked at Anne. Here was her chance to disagree if she wasn't into it.

Silence. 

Well, um, it looked like she was silent. It was dark, loud and kinda smoky in the club. And I didn't see her lips moving.

I briefly wondered if she was just really starting to get into the Stillwater song playing loudly in the background.

Nah.

But, like I said, she didn't say no. So, we switched.

Dean and Anne headed over to a different part of the balcony. I could still see them, but they weren't standing right next to us anymore. Kate scooted in front of me and we stood at the railing and watched the band play below us on the stage.

So, I'm standing there, watching one of my favorite bands play with a strange hot woman in front of me. Well, I don't mean that she was strange. I mean, she could be strange. How do I know if she's strange? I really just met her only a few hours ago. She could be an ax-murderer for all I know. Or a pyromaniac. Or she kicks cute puppies. She could be a pyro puppy-puncher.

She's grinding her ass into my crotch.

She's grinding her ass into my crotch? She's grinding her ass into my crotch! What do I do? Do I move back? Um, grind forward? How the fuck do you grind forward? That's stupid. Think Eric! Don't fuck this up. Ok, she's into it. She's just grooving to the music. She's just. . .really pushing her ass into my dick. I mean really.

And she looked back at me and smiled.

Wow. . . Now what?

So I put my arms around her. She didn't move! Excellent. Ok, now I've got my arms around her and she is moving that cute little ass in my crotch. 

So, I did what any decent red-blooded American male would do.

I grabbed some boob.

Oh yes.

I had the whole tit, in my hand.

Seriously. She was a tiny girl with small but very shapely boobies. I really could fit the whole thing in my hand. It felt different. Anne has a nice large set of melons. It's a two-handed job at the very least. Kate's were just a handful. Different. But nice.

She's grinding and I'm groping. Groping and grinding. I looked around. Everyone else was watching the band. I mean, these dorks lived for Stillwater. As opposed to me. I just really, really, really liked Stillwater. Completely different.

Anyway, no one was paying any attention to us. I could still see Anne and Dean, but couldn't see much else going on between them. It looked like Dean had his arms around Anne. I couldn't really complain though. I was doing a full-on breast-exam on Kate.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the music. Maybe it's just because I'm an idiot, but I decided to step it up a bit. Moving carefully, but quickly, I slid my hand down over her tight pants and directly over her crotch. Her reaction? Punch me in the face? Scream? Knee me in the nuts and call me a creep? Nope. She pushed her ass into me a bit more forcefully.

Woo!! Bonus!

Holy fuck! Now what? I mean, it was weird. This kind of stuff just doesn't happen to me. It's like it was all just a big mistake.

"Excuse me sir?"

"Yes?"

"Well, you see sir, this hot woman grinding her ass into your privates?"

"Yes?"

"Yes, well, um, she's supposed to be grinding her ass into the crotch of the gentleman next to you."

"What? Really? Are-are you sure?"

"Yes sir."

"Oh, well, um, ah, so what, um, should I, ah. . ."

"If you could just, well, disengage your crotch from the lady's ass, then we will direct the proper crotch over here."

What do I do now? Do I stop? Do I simply step back and listen to the show? Aw hell, let's see what else we can do in the middle of this concert. So I moved my hand up and then slipped it back down but under the waistband of her pants. I was soon rubbing a very, very sexy pair of panties. Well, in my head they were sexy. They certainly felt sexy. I was going to go with sexy. On the panties. And on the girl. Not to be outdone, I slipped my fingers underneath the edges of those delightful little panties. It was skin on skin baby!

HOLY SHIT!

And then it hit me.

I'm standing in the middle of a VERY public place with one hand kneading a woman's breasts and the other down her pants and rubbing her pussy.

I.AM.AWESOME!!!!!

Wait a minute. What the fuck am I doing? I could get arrested or something. That's just what I need. To have my picture splashed across the front of the local paper with the headline, "Creepy pervert busted at Stillwater concert!" Or better yet, the room full of dungeons and dragons loving misfits suddenly realizes that I am getting pretty hot and heavy with a hot chick in the middle of their salami party and they will all jump on her. 

"Hey, hey look over there!!!"

"What?"

"That guy. He's, he's with a girl!"

"Yeah, so?"

"She's hot!"

"What?"

"And, he's, he's like feeling her up and stuff!"

"What? No fucking way! I wanna feel her up!"

"Me too! I've never felt a girl before!"

"I've never kissed a girl before!"

"What's a girl?" 

So, I backed off a bit. I couldn't tell if Kate was pleased with this or not. She was quite excited with what we had been doing though, at least based upon what I was feeling as I ran my hands over her body. We stayed together and watched the band until the end of the show, and then walked over to Anne and Dean. I couldn't really tell if they had a nice time. Certainly not as nice as me. Holy shit I was fondling a chick in the middle of a rock concert! I think Anne was staring at me, wondering why I had this huge shit eating grin on my face.

And that's when Larry walked up to us.

Who's Larry? Oh, just a guy that I went to high school with.

OH SHIT! 

I'm standing next to a lady that's not my wife, my hand smells like pussy because I've been fondling her for the past twenty minutes or so, and I run into someone I know??

"Um, ah, h-hey Larry. So, uh, you ah, like, uh, S-stillwater?"

"Eric? Hey man! How are you dude?" He blathered on for a while. I don't really know what he said. As he was talking, I was trying to slooooooow-ly inch away from Kate and closer to Anne. I mean, what if he wanted to be introduced to my wife? 

He'll wonder why I'm standing so close to Kate yet introducing him to Anne. And then he'll wonder why Anne was standing so close to Dean. And then maybe he'll think something weird is going on. Like we're swingers. That we're fucking these people and he'll tell all of his other friends. And his friends will tell their friends and so on and so on and then I'll be known as Eric the swinger with all his friends on every social network from here to China.

FUCK.

"So, dude, what did you think of the muuuuuusic? Wasn't it totally awesome man? These guys rock!"

The thing is, as Larry continued to talk, I suddenly remembered something.

Larry was a drugged out mess in high school.

I mean, total wastoid. I sometimes wondered how he managed to find his way to class every day. I guess I really wasn't all that surprised to see that he seemed to be the same way now. A whole bunch of years later. His eyes were bloodshot and it seemed like he had a little trouble focusing.

On reality.

See me with Kate? I think Larry had trouble seeing either me or Kate. He was saying something about meeting the band later at some bar. He knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. Or something. Between not really understanding a word he was saying and the unbelievable fact that I was just groping a hot woman, I couldn't really concentrate on what was going on.

So, I said my goodbyes to Larry and the four of us quickly exited the club. Larry was still talking as we walked away. I hope he made it safely to the party. I hope he safely made it to the door. Good old Larry.




Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 10



Outside, we chatted briefly with Kate and Dean. It was late and we were all pretty tired. They still had quite a drive back home. We hugged. Well, I hugged Kate. Anne hugged them both. And we made definite plans to meet a few weeks later. 

I was pumped. I was excited. I had a rock hard boner that Anne was gonna have to help me with! I was gonna pump her good! I was gonna be feeling up two women tonight! Count 'em! Two! I was on top of the world! I was the MAN! 

Well, the man had to go back to work and the excitement of the evening faded a bit. But I think I became a bit infatuated with Kate. She was one hot little sex pot. She was gonna do things to me that I'd only seen in porn movies! The really, really dirty ones! And Dean was gonna rock Anne's world. He was gonna thrust his giant man missile deep inside her love canal. He was gonna take her to heights hitherto unexplored! These two sex gods were going to redefine the entire swinging experience for us!

Soon enough, the weekend to meet up with them arrived. We drove quite a way to meet them for great food and fantastic fun! That was my vision! That was my goal!

The reality?

Applebee's.

The food wasn't so great.

But the fun, man! How was the fun!

Eh.

It seemed that the magic of the Stillwater moment had faded. Kate wasn't some ethereal goddess. She was a nice little redhead that REALLY liked to smoke pot. So much so that she had a little bong thing on a keychain that she took great delight in showing us. And she smoked a lot of cigarettes.

A lot. 

Because she tasted like an ashtray when I finally kissed her.

The actual swinging and swapping?

Ok. 

Nothing spectacular. Nothing earth-shattering. She knew what she wanted to get off and wasn't really interested in seeing how I ticked.

And the other sex god Dean?

Well, as Anne explained later on, he wasn't all, um, god, in certain areas. A little, bit, uh, smaller than god size.

What did I want from Kate? I wanted her to fuck me like Anne. She knew what I liked. She knew what buttons to push. I guess I found out the hard way that when you build up the fantasy too much, you're bound to be disappointed.

You know, I still listen to Stillwater. I still like the band. But I never make Anne listen. I'd rather spend my time groping her to music that we both like.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 11



Note: This stand-alone story is part of our continuing adventures in swinging. I hope that you find at least some of these stories humorous. 

Chapter 11: Sweaty Guy

A big cock.

Everyone seems to be infatuated with a big cock. A large rod. A huge pecker. A giant penis.

Especially swingers.

Why is that? I mean, lots of studies by respected scientists (well, sex researchers. They're respected scientists though, aren't they?) have collected gobs of data (ha! gobs) that women are no more sexually satisfied by an above average penis then they are by an average sized penis.

Screw that.

Big cocks!

Everyone wants 'em! Size matters. At least, that's what porn teaches us.

Mmmmmm, porn!

Swinger sites are filled with pictures of guys with huge dongs. No face pics. Just these giant logs of flesh. But, some women must want them, right? Why else would guys keep posting the pics? And some women and couples on swinger sites demand that single guys have enormous schlongs if they want to play with that couple.

So. Like I said. Everybody wants big cocks!

We were contacted one time by a couple that we had played with in the past, Chris and Lori. We had gotten together with them and swapped. Just some good old fashioned fucking. Although, I don't think Anne was all that blown away by Chris. I think he, um, inserted tab A into Slot B and *BANG* All done! Like I said, not too overwhelming. I mean, it wasn't a horrible experience. Just nothing to write home about. If you were, um, gonna write home about fucking some guy.

Anyway, they e-mailed me to say that they wanted to get together again and that this time they had another guy that they wanted to bring.

And he had a big cock.

A big cock?

Singly guy?

Interesting. 

Anne and I were traveling into uncharted territory. Like Lewis and Clark. But with more sex and less outdoors stuff. Ok, I mean, we had gotten together with that single guy at the club a while ago. But, I don't recall if he had an especially large, uh, member. And Anne didn't seem to remember any differently. So, now we had the chance to get together with a dude with a big dong. If Chris and Lori said it was larger than normal, we had no reason not to believe them.

Anyway, Anne was into it, so we planned to meet them one night at a restaurant and see where it went from there. I mean, Anne wasn't like, "Oh my god!!! I gotta have that big sausage stuffed inside me!!!!" It was more like, "Yeah sure. Why not." So, with that ringing endorsement, we made plans to meet. At a local chicken-wing place. 

Mmmmmm, wings and swapping. Like pork chops and apple sauce. Well, with more natural juices! Anne and I got to the restaurant and found them pretty quickly. After saying our hellos to Chris and Lori, they introduced us to John over a nice medium-hot wing sauce and some blue cheese.

One piece of advice? Never get the really hot sauce. Imagine if you ate them and then rubbed your hands on places, where, um, hot sauce was never meant to go?

Yikes!

A pilot.

It seems that John was a pilot.

A pilot with a big cock.

Well, ok, you couldn't tell that in the restaurant. He was wearing pants and all. But he was tall. Somewhere over six feet. And he seemed nice enough. But nothing in particular stood out about him. I mean, he was just kind of there. Maybe it would have been better if he did have his cock out in the restaurant. "Whoa! Watch out there buddy! That thing could poke an eye out!!!" At least that would have been memorable. So, we chatted. We ate. We didn't talk directly about the giant meat missile lurking under the table. But it was there. We all knew it. Lurking. Under the table.

After finishing up, we decided to head over to a motel not too far from the restaurant to get a room. I remember rubbing my own cock in my pants on the drive over. I was hoping to chub up a bit before we got there. After all, we were going to see a BIG COCK. 

"Ok, my little friend. Wait, did I say little? You're not little. I did NOT mean to say little. You're the man! A big man with a cool helmet. You hear me BIG guy?? Standing up strong and erect! You've never let me down before. Facing all battles and challenges with the utmost of grace and aplomb! You hear me my friend? Aplomb! We've been through a lot together, you and me. We've had our ups and downs. But, now? Now my friend, you've been called up to the big leagues. The real thing. The majors. I don't want you to be intimidated. You just play your game, and you'll do just fine. Just remember, don't try to do anything crazy. Stick with the game plan. In and out. In and out. You got me? No wild moves out there. No swirls or shakes or anything like that. Just the stuff that you're known for. None of that Wild Thing crap. You're better than that. Ok, big guy? You with me? Awesome. Now, break on three. One, two, three BREAK!"

"Why are you rubbing your pants?" Anne was staring at me like I was nuts.

"Um, ah, cramp?"

I don't think she believed me. Oh well. I smiled and gave my now pleasantly plumped up friend a quick pat and we headed into the hotel to meet up with the others.

It was a little odd. I was used to Anne pairing up with the other guy and me pairing up with the other woman. Now, we had an extra guy to add to the mix. Where would he go? How would he fit in? Would he even fit? Hmmmmm.

I think the whole thing started with John the pilot with Lori and Chris and me with Anne. We were doing typical stuff, you know, kissing and licking and sucking. It was weird because Chris and I each kind of staked out areas of Anne's body and stayed within those areas.

"I claim this left tit for the Kingdom of Ericland!!! This is now and forevermore Eric's left tit!"

As Chris and I carved up Anne's body like a pair of hungry European expansionists, John and Lori were going at it on the bed. I wasn't really paying too much attention to their action, but I did hear her moaning loudly. A lot. I tried to remain focused on pleasuring my wife, but it was hard for my mind not to wander.

Perhaps there really is something to this big cock thing? Maybe she's really getting off on it? Maybe all of those cheesy porn movies and badly written Penthouse letters are actually correct?

Or perhaps just the IDEA of fucking a big cock is what does it? The sensations don't feel much different, but the eroticism and fantasy of the experience make it absolutely mind-blowing?

Eh.

Whatever.

Lori was having a field day fucking the dude with a big cock. Now, granted, Chris and I were doing what we could with Anne. She seemed to enjoy it. He seemed to enjoy it. I was licking away merrily on my claimed breast. But, it was like we were all simply waiting. Marking time until Anne could have her own turn on the big shiny new toy. And, after cumming more than a few times, Lori got off the ride and asked Anne if she wanted a turn. John was stripping off the condom as Lori and Anne changed places. Hell, it was more like a garbage bag. Holy shit. When the fuck did Hefty start making condoms?

Then Anne got onto the bed by John. Ready to rock and roll. Ready to fuck the oversize organ.

Did I want her to? Did I have a choice? What if she liked it? I mean, what if she REALLY liked it? Liked it like a junkie trying heroin for the first time liked it? I was a bit unnerved. Scared. But curious as hell about the whole thing. I got together with Lori at about the same time that Anne moved over on the bed to be with John. The pilot. With the big cock. Chris was taking a breather.

We ended up being right next to each other on the king-sized bed. Me and Lori. Anne and the big cock. This gave me my chance. I finally got a chance to look at it.

The cock.

The big cock.

You know what? It was fucking big. Really. HOLY FUCKING MOLY! I mean, I've seen porn cocks and all, but this was the real thing. Live and in the flesh.

Ha! In the flesh. 

And it was pretty darn impressive. Then I thought about Anne. Would he hurt her? Could she take it all? Did she want to take it all? It was like a giant fleshy telephone pole. Covered in a garbage bag condom. All very impressive looking.

You know what? My own little helmeted buddy didn't really like this whole thought process of mine.

He, um, took his toys and, ah, went home. Not such a rigid and stand-up guy anymore.

"Hey, where are you going pal? What about the game plan? What about the whole in and out thing? What about. . ." Ah screw it. It just wasn't happening. I kind of looked at Lori. She knew it too. She knew that I was curious about what Anne's turn on the giant beef jerky was gonna be like. So, we kind of moved apart a bit and I watched. Lori watched. I'm pretty sure Chris was watching too.

John got on top of her. They started going at it. Well, more to the point, he started going at it. He was a machine. A pumping machine of penis flesh.

He must have been a machine.

An overheating machine. 

You know why? Because the dude was sweating up a storm. What? I mean, I know we all sweat when we fuck. Who doesn't? But damn, this guy wasn't just sweating.

He was dripping.

Like, "Dude, I just ran fifteen miles in ninety-degree heat!" kind of dripping.

Ew.

I watched him piston in and out of Anne. It would have been super erotic. . . If it didn't look like her head was under a water spigot.

In the middle of the action, she actually rolled him over and got on top of him to fuck. I think she signaled for a towel at one point.

Towel?

She needed like a full-body electric dryer.

Ew. Did I say that already?

Ew.

So, she fucked him. She was sliding all around on his big sweaty body. It looked like she was fucking a human slip and slide.

With a big dong.

Did she cum? Yes.

Did she enjoy a big cock? I believe that she did.

But, when we talk about this experience years later, it's not us sitting around remembering John with the big cock. Its, "Hey, remember sweaty guy?"

So, he had a big cock.

No sweat.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 12



Note: This stand-alone story is part of our continuing adventures in swinging. It is also the last chapter of the story. Thanks to all who have read some or all of these tales, and I appreciate all of the comments, good and bad, that I've received. I hope you found at least some of these stories humorous. 

Chapter 12: In Da Club 4 -- Vampires, Boobies & Blowjobs, Oh My! 

Apparently, the super bowl of parties at swinger clubs is the Halloween party. I know that New Year's Eve at the clubs can get pretty wild, but from I read and what others have told me, Halloween is THE blow-out of monster proportions. The end-all, be-all of swinger parties. Mardi Gras, Carnivale and a Roman orgy all rolled into one hellacious night.

Definitely a chance for the freaks, perverts and sex maniacs to really let it all hang out.

Aaaaaaaaaall the way out.

Anne and I decided to give it a shot. To go for the big one. We'd been to a few clubs, had some good times and lived to tell about it. So we figured, why not? I mean, really, what's the worst that could happen? Really?

We picked a club that we'd gone to once before. Although we didn't hook up with anyone that previous time, we also didn't meet up with any of the nutjobs and whackadoos that we'd seen in some other places.

Um, creepy soccer guy? 

Anyway, the club was planning its annual Halloween bash, and we thought it would be fun.

We emailed another couple that we knew and played with in the past, Toby and Andrea, and asked them if they would like to go with us. Well, I contacted them. I did all the leg work while Anne got to fuck. Not that I minded.

That's a big part of swinging. Being comfortable while watching your wife getting fucked by another guy. I know that some couples will only swing if they're in separate rooms, but that seems to be a cop out to me. If you're willing to let your spouse play with others, you should be able to watch them do it.

But what the fuck do I know?

Anyway, Andrea was a hot blond with some big tits.

Niiiiice.

I liked seeing her naked, and Anne seemed to enjoy Toby. And by enjoy I mean fucking. So, we figured that they would be a fun couple to go to the club with for the Halloween party.

Ok. So now we had the club and a couple to go with.

There was only one thing missing.

Costumes.

What to wear? What to wear? I worried, briefly, that this was going to involve another trip to the mall and the junior miss section. Well, perhaps a mall I wasn't banned from entering.

Luckily, however, Anne had no problem coming up with her costume idea almost immediately.

SCHOOLGIRL!

I know, I know, it's been done to death, but I have to tell you, she looked fucking HOT in her tiny plaid skirt tight white button-down shirt. Add in the knee socks and the chunky black patent leather shoes and, OOOOOOOO!!!! I wasn't sure if we'd be able to get out the door before I simply threw her over the bed and, well, you know. . . BANGED THE SNOT OUTTA HER!!

MMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!

And my costume? I think it was a cape. Or maybe a sheet. A mask? Again, is anyone looking at the guy's costume at the swinger club? Really?

So, with Anne decked out in her cute little schoolgirl outfit and me in my cape/sheet/mask thing, we headed downtown to the club. This being the Midwest in late October, it was cold. Fucking cold. Not the best kind of weather for Anne's tiny little outfit and big-heeled stripper shoes. So I dropped her off in front of the club. I was terrified that she would step out of the car and slip. How do you explain to the emergency room doctor how your wife broke her leg while dressed as a complete slut trying to get into a swinger club?

You don't. 

So I prayed to all that was holy that she would just make it into the door. Please God, please just let her get to the door! 

Thankfully she made it inside without any problems

Wait a minute. She made it inside. What if when I finally get inside they think I'm a single guy and don't let me in? Swinger clubs are not fond of single guys. Single women? C'mon in!!! They love single woman! They don't even have to pay the ridiculous cover charge. Single guys? If they do let you in, you pay even more than a couple. That is, if they even let you in.

"No, really, I'm here with my wife. You already let her in, remember? She was dressed as a school girl."

"Uh huh. Look buddy, we've got fifty women in here dressed as school girls."

"Yeah, o.k., but my wife is the really, really HOT schoolgirl! And I was just parking the car after I dropped her off."

"Sure you were. You've got a super-hot school girl wife while you're dressed in a. . . just what the hell is that? A cape? A mask? And I'm supposed to believe that someone dressed like you came here with a woman? A hot woman?" 

Well, in reality I parked the car, grabbed our cheap bottle of red wine out of the back seat, and quickly made my way back over to the club. Fuck it was cold! I almost tripped or slipped on the ice covered sidewalk about sixteen times. But I made it to the front door, adjusted my mask/cape and went in. Thankfully, Anne was waiting there for me.

God she looked good. Mmmmmmmmm, schoolgirl!!!

I stared at her for a bit and then turned to the little window area and started filling out the ten page admission form and forked over my hundred bucks. The guy working the door was also staring at Anne. Well, her tits.

What can I say? The woman has a great rack!

After I finished the giant form and emptied my wallet of all my money, we headed inside.

It was pretty crowded and still kinda early. I was pumped. This was it! The super-swinger party! Let's get crazy! Let's get fucking nuts! Let's, um. . . let's, ah, let's head over to the bar with our bottle of wine and get a drink.

So that's what we did. We got two glasses of cheap red wine and checked out the scene. People were dancing and flirting and having a good time. 

And we were standing there. By ourselves.

Even though it was the ultimate swinger party, it didn't make it any easier to meet new people. So, after standing around talking to each other for a while, we decided to walk around the club a bit to check out the sights. People were dressed all sorts of crazy, sexy costumes. My favorite was one particular hot, tall blonde woman. She was completely naked, her hair was in pigtails and she was carrying around one of those giant multi-colored lollipops.

I LOVE THIS PLACE!!

We wandered and saw that the club was more crowded. Just when I was beginning to wonder if Toby and Andrea were going to make it, they walked in. We went over to them and said our hellos. Andreas was dressed, of course, as a school girl. She and Anne were like bookends. Hot, sexy, erotic oh-so-fuckable bookends. Toby was a hobbit. Or a werewolf. Or maybe a lamp. It was one of those. I think. He could have been Elvis.

Who cares?

Now we had some people! Now we were a group! Others looked and us and said, "Wow, how did they hook up? How can we meet someone as cool as them?" They are awesome!

Actually, no one was looking at us. Everyone was too busy thinking about how to go about trying to hook up and fuck the naked lollipop chick.

The four of us decided to keep walking through the club. We passed the private rooms and the large public room for group orgies and ended up in an area that seemed to be part dungeon and part sex shop. Anne and I hadn't made it into this room before, and we were quite intrigued. The first dungeon room had some type of weird contraption that sort of looked like a pommel horse for some Olympic sport, but was also apparently designed for fucking. 

Who knew? 

As I was still trying to wrap my head around how it was used, we wandered into the next dungeon room. It was filled with whips and feathers and masks and all sorts of other bizarre stuff.

And I mean bizarre.

Like the fat dude with the ropes.

Seriously.

When we walked in, we saw that there were a few other people in costumes hanging out in the room.

"Cool," I thought. "Let's see what's going on in here."

That's when I noticed that they were all turned and looking at something.

Like a show.

There was even a bench that a few people were sitting on.

Watching the fat dude. With the ropes.

The thing is, it wasn't like he was a particularly good looking fat dude. I don't even think that he was a fat dude in a costume. But he did have a rope. 

He was a fat dude with rope.

Which he was tying around the chest of some random woman.

Um, huh?

Apparently, the chubby boyscout wasn't practicing a hitch knot. Instead, he was in the middle of some kind of weird erotic binding thing. Erotic binding? That's a real thing? You mean I could have been tying up chicks with my shoe laces and they would have gotten off on it? Really? 

But there they were. The fat man and the bound babe. And she was all smiles. The guy was blabbering away about technique and knots and pressure. I was kinda half listening and half staring at the whips on the wall. Every once in a while, he would stop droning on about all the amazing things that he could do with the rope and switch over to a switch. Or whip. Or whatever else some other woman had in her hand in the room that he would tell her about. He may have been large, but the guy had an eagle eye for what the women in the room were doing around him.

"So, like I was saying, you don't want to make the rope too tight around the chest. It's meant to caress and not . . . oh, I see that you're looking at my cat-o-nine tails. Yes, well, you don't want to strike too hard on the skin and leave a mark or seriously hurt someone. Instead, it is just a soft swipe with the leather ends. Just enough to bring a tingle of pain and pleasure."

Seriously? This guy was like the Pied Piper of torture toys. The four of us watched him work for a bit. Tying and explaining. And all these women were eating it up. They were staring at him all goggle-eyed and waiting on his every word. Just about at the time that I thought that Anne and Andrea were getting bored with the guy, Anne suddenly volunteered to be his next, um, participant? Guest? Tied up woman?

Huh? 

Now this creepy looking doof is staring at her like she would make a welcome addition to his kill pit ("It puts the lotion in the basket!") and Anne is stepping forward so that he can tie her up? Oh, sorry. I mean take part in some erotic binding.

Why hadn't Anne ever said anything to me about tying her up? I mean, we had played with some silk scarves a few years back, but I never thought that she was this, ah, hardcore about this kind of fantasy. Heck, I could get out the garden hose, an extension cord and a kite string and we could have a hell of a time!

But I had nothing on this schlub. He was working the rope around Anne's chest. Talking to her the whole time. Explaining why he was putting the rope here and tightening it there. I noticed that she was getting a bit flushed as he wound the length around her large breasts. He was like the fucking rope-whisperer of something.

Should I be taking notes? Practicing? Did anyone have a camera so I could take a few shots of the knots to try at home? I felt completely out of place. I had to get out of there. Instead of a fun time, it felt more like I was at a college lecture. You know, the class that you haven't been to all semester and now its time for the final? Everyone else was watching the guy tie up my wife with intense interest and suddenly I'm worried about failing a fucking college class. 

Fuck!

I need to do something else. Think, man! Think about something else!

I decided to look over at Andrea in her little school girl outfit.

She was cute. 

I wondered what she would say if I started running my hands up and down her back, slowing moving towards her chest. Perhaps bending her over the little bench, pushing her skirt up, pulling down her little white panties and pushing my cock right into her. 

Man, that would be fun.

And you know what? I wouldn't need any ropes to do it.

Andrea looked over at me and smiled. I wonder if she knew what I was imagining doing to her? 

I wonder if I'm EVER going to get out of this FUCKING room???

No, no. Back to her little white panties. 

Holy fuck! I think time has stopped. Is there a clock in here? No, just fucking torture shit on the walls. Stupid fat guy in his stupid torture dungeon room! 

Has time actually stopped? 

Wait. Andrea was still smiling!

Cool! You know what? I think that I definitely have a chance tonight! 

Ok, the weird dude was finally unwrapping Anne. After she was free, she came over to where we were standing. She smiled and said that she really enjoyed it. Hmmmm. Wife turned on? Check. Hot blonde schoolgirl chick appearing to want me? Check.

Oh yeah!

Thankfully we walked out of the dungeon area and back into the rest of the club. We saw that it had REALLY filled up. Naked lollipop chick was still naked. It didn't look like she had eaten any of the lollipop, but she was drinking a lot from a very large plastic cup. She still looked good. Perhaps stumbling a little bit, but so what? She was fucking naked for God's sake. Cut her some slack!

We made it back to the dance/bar area of the club. It was packed. All kinds of sexy people were bumping and grinding away. Sailors and pirates and Jesus. I mean, the guy kinda looked like Jesus. Jesus at a swing club. Wow.

We decided to grab a drink and then go dance for a while. Get ourselves worked up before slipping back into one of those little private rooms for some fun. Mmmmmm, two schoolgirls ready for some naked fun! I was pretty excited!

I looked over at Andrea. She was running her hands up and down Toby's body. She looked hot and worked up.

Ready to have some fun.

I looked over at Anne.

She looked awesome. She looked like she was starting to get worked up.

She turned white and looked like she just swallowed a rotten fish.

Um, what?

"Are you ok?" I said to her. She kind of half turned and stared at me, confusion on her face. No answer.

"Anne, are you ok?" I asked again. I was starting to get a bit worried.

"M-mindy's over there," Anne finally mumbled.

Oh. Mindy. I turned to look. And, sure enough, over where she was looking was a woman in a French maid outfit talking with some guy.

'Huh,' I thought to myself. 'That looks just like a woman that Anne works with. I think her name's Mindy.'

Oh Fuck. OH.FUCK.

I looked back over at Anne. She looked like she was gonna faint dead away. Toby and Andrea were still dancing, but realized that we had stopped and they were starting to wonder what was going on. I moved over and quickly filled Toby in on what was going on. 

"Oh, shit," he said. 

He knew. 

About the third rule of swinging.

The Third Rule of Swinging. Never, ever, ever mix your regular life with your swinging life. Ever.

Anne's worlds were about to collide. 

Ok. No big deal. Mindy's over there and we're waaaaay over here. And there are lots of other people between us. I mean, I don't think she saw us. But now what are we going to do? Mindy was between us and the exit.

Fuck.

Toby, Andrea and I quickly moved so that we were shielding Anne from view. Mindy's back was to us, and we made our way to the very far side of the room. Now there were lots of people between us and Mindy.

Great.

Anne looked at her cup of cheap wine and proceeded to drain it.

And mine.

She was not happy.

I mean, I don't blame her. It's not good for someone to find out that you're into swinging this way. Not good at all. Yes, I know that Mindy was also there, and thus we were finding out that she was also into swinging. But it didn't help. Anne just wanted to slip out the back door and run to the car.

Too bad there wasn't a back door.

Toby went over and got some more wine for Anne. I felt bad for them. They were ready to have some fun and we just sucked the life out of the party. Well, Mindy did. I looked back over to her.

She did have a nice body.

Too bad she had a horse face.

No really. At first, I had no idea who Anne was talking about when she said that Mindy was here. If she had said, "Oh, horse face is here," I would have known instantly who she was talking about.

Hot body. Horse.Fucking.Face.

But ol' horse face had us trapped. In the corner of a swinger club. On Halloween. 

Fuck.

I mean, is this it? Is this night really gonna be this bad? It started off so fucking awesome. And it's turned into complete crap. A giant crap sandwich. With extra crap on top. I was feeling super depressed now. Not even my mask/cape costume could make me feel better.

"She's gone."

Say what?

Anne was looking around the dance floor and over at the bar. She turned back to me with a smile on her face.

"She's gone."

Great! Super! On with the party!

"Should we leave?"

Wait what? Stop the party!!! I looked over at Anne. She was staring at me with her big brown eyes. And her magnificent breasts were heaving slightly in her tight white button down.

No wait. 

Stop looking at her tits. 

This is serious.

Seriously good looking tits is what they are!

Ok, anyway, I focused again on her eyes.

"Well, sweetheart," I answered as I grabbed her hand in mine, "we can do whatever you want." I paused for a second. "But," I continued, "is horse face going to ruin your night?"

Anne stared at me for a bit.

"I don't know," she finally said. "What, what do you want to do?"

Me? I wanna watch Toby fuck you silly. I wanna ram my cock deep into Andrea's hot wet pussy and blow my load all over her creamy white tits. 

I said on the inside.

"Me?" I answered. "I want to do whatever makes you happy."

God I'm good. I should get an award or something.

Anne smiled at me. Love was in her eyes.

"Well," she said. "I guess we could get out of this room." I could hear the giant 'but' in her voice. No, not a giant butt. She didn't have a huge ass-voice. It was the 'but' in her voice that was saying, 'O.k., I'll walk around the club, but if I run into Mindy I'm gonna explode or go screaming from the building.'

That kind of but. 

So, we slowly made our way out of the dance floor room. Anne was looking around wildly, making sure that she didn't spot Mindy.

Me? I was staring at naked lollipop girl.

She was a naked lollipop mess.

She was sitting on a bench right at the entrance to the dance area.

Well, not so much sitting as, um, sprawling. And trying not to collapse. That kinda thing.

Still naked. 

With a giant uneaten lollipop now simply drooping in her hand. Maybe it was simply laying on her leg.

She was babbling incoherently and I think there was a little drool leaking out of the side of her mouth.

Like I said. A mess.

I noticed that a couple of guys were staring at her. Slowly edging their way over to her. Like they were moving in for the kill I guess. I wondered briefly if naked lollipop girl was here with anybody. Was there a naked lollipop boy around somewhere? Was he looking for her? Had he hooked up with someone else? Had he actually eaten his giant lollipop? So many questions! 

Ah well. Sorry drunk naked lollipop girl. I had my own problems to deal with.

Horse Face.

As we wandered past the little private rooms, I saw that all the doors were closed and locked. Looks like people were starting to have some serious fun for the evening. And by fun I mean fucking. And by people I mean people other than us!! I thought I heard a few moans and gasps as we walked by. That could be me. Um, us. Me and Toby and two nekkid school girls. Well, maybe still in their little skirts and nothing else. Maybe naked except for those cute little shoes and socks! But no. Instead we were wandering around the hallways of the club. Kind of lurking in fact. Creeping along, afraid of who we might see around the next corner.




Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 12



Still no sign of Mindy. Could she have gone into one of the little rooms with someone? Lifted up that little French maid skirt and let him pound her from behind? 

I know that I'd want to be behind her. I mean, the thought of looking at that face while fucking her was making me kinda nauseous.

Soon we found ourselves back down in the dungeon area of the club. Weird. I wanted to get away from this area so bad not too long ago, but now I was happy to be back here and away from being trapped on the dance floor. As we walked into the first room, I saw a large crowd of people. They were all standing around watching, something. Someone? Someones? After scanning the crowd and not seeing a certain person, we moved closer for a better look.

And that's when I saw how the sex toy thing was used. A woman was kind of half on it and half off it. One guy was in front of her, sliding his dick in and out of her mouth. The other guy was behind her, ramming his meaty cock into her pussy.

The woman?

Horse Face.

HO. LY. SHIT.

I was amazed. Well, not about the fact that she was getting pounded by two guys in a swinger's club. I mean c'mon, this is a swinger's club. No, I was amazed by the fact that two guys wanted to nail her.

Well, that's not being fair, I mean, like I said, she did have a tight body. It's just that her face could stop time. Literally. My watch died sometime during the evening and I'm convinced it's when I first saw her. 

So there she was. In all of her glory. Getting fucked by two men before a crowd of people. Anne was looking at her in the way people look at car accidents on the highway. The kind where someone is REALLY badly injured and the police and ambulances haven't shown up yet. She had a look of revulsion on her face. Like she was thinking, 'My God! This is a terrible terrible thing! Why has this happened! Why do we have to witness this horrendous event!'

And yet, like an accident, she couldn't look away. She just kept right on staring. Others in the room were kind of getting into it. I thought I heard a few people mumbling, 'Yeah, that's it. Fuck that pussy.' And someone else was saying, 'I think he's gonna shoot his load right down her throat.' And a third guy was saying, 'Gowon, ride that girl! YEEEEE HAAAWW!!!!'

Well, maybe not that third guy.

I couldn't take it anymore. Obviously, we didn't have to worry about Mindy seeing us, because, well, she was otherwise occupied. But the thought that she was getting some and that I wasn't was really starting to bum me out. Not only had she ruined the evening so far, but she looked like she was getting the pounding of her life at that moment.

Fuck.

Soon, Anne wandered over to me.

She had that look.

That look that said, 'I need to leave.'

Now.

So, we slowly walked out of the torture room. Toby and Andrea came with us, but I think they knew. Anne had the look. When we got near the entrance of the club, we said our goodbyes. I smiled a bit and apologized for our departure. They were cool about it and understood. Running into someone that you know at a swinger's club can mess with anyone's evening.

And with that, we were out into the cold October night.

As we slowly made our way back to the car, slipping and sliding on the icy sidewalk, I couldn't help but think, 'Is this it?'

Is this how our swinging life ends? Not with a BANG! but instead with a whimper? Going gently into that good night?

I opened the passenger side door and held Anne's hand as she slid into the car. I looked back longingly at the club as I walked around to the driver's side.

"Ah well," I thought to myself as I lifted my cape, adjusted my mask and got into the car. "It was a good run while it lasted."

As I looked over to my beautiful wife to tell her that I loved her and that I was fine with ending our wild and swinging ways, she turned and looked at me.

She had a glint in her eyes and just a little bit of a smile on her face.

Her large breasts were straining against the tight white button down. She saw where I was looking and slowly ran one of her fingers over a very hard protruding nipple. My mouth was open as I looked away from her chest and back into her eyes.

"I think some of the guys in there really liked my outfit."

Stop swinging? Us?

Nah.



Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 13



*Note - This stand alone story is part of our continuing (mostly true) adventures in the world of swinging. 

Chapter 13: House Party! 

For all of the adventures that Anne and I had experienced so far in the wild world of swinging, meeting with couples at hotels, going to clubs, having dudes sweat profusely on my wife, we had never had the opportunity to attend a house party. 

What is a house party you ask? Well, it's a party. At a house.

What're you, retarded?

Seriously. It's a swinger party at someone's house. 

Somewhere, out in the burbs, at this very minute, is a house full of naked sweaty people. 

Fucking.

Now, I can think of all sorts of reasons why I'd never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever want to have a swinger party at my house. 

Did I say ever?

I can only imagine some of the fucked up results of hosting a party like that.

You know, like, having the neighbors asking what's going on.

"Hey Eric."

"Oh, hey there Bob."

"I see you have some balloons on your mailbox that say Let's Party Naked!"

"Uh, yeah."

"Huh. Well, just what kind of party are you having there?"

"uhhhhhhhhhh."

I mean, how do you answer that question? 'Oh, you know Bob, it's just a few of my friends coming over to, uh, get naked and fuck.'

No?

How about, 'Oh, well Bob, it's just a few couples getting together, dressed like whores and pimps, here to have a good time. If you know what I mean!' *wink* ' And I think you do!'

There's just no good way to explain the whole swinging situation to the neighbors if they ask. Unless you invite them. And how fucking weird would that be? I mean, how many of your neighbors would you even want to see naked? Ick.

But that's only one reason out of, say, hmmmm, a kajillion, that I wouldn't want to have a house party at my own house. All those people, naked, having sex on my bed? On my sheets? Using my towels to, um, clean up???

I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

Excuse me while I go gargle some bleach.

Ok, so the odds that Anne and I ever hosting a swinger party at our house are somewhere between winning the Power Ball lottery and being named the new king and queen of England.

Just not gonna happen.

But that didn't stop us from going to a house party. You see, there are people who are wired differently from us. People who want to have other people in their homes. And by in their homes I mean really, really, in their homes. 

Naked. 

Fucking. 

Fucking naked.

Are they just stupid? I don't think so. Just, um, different. But in a good way! No really.

So, we were invited to a house party by a couple that we met through a swinger site. We had met the couple for dinner a few weeks before the party. We both thought they were just your every day regular swingers. We didn't know that they were:

SUPER SWINGERS

No really. I think they'd played with roughly a thousand different people. And by play I mean fuck. I mean they fucked a lot of people. A LOT OF PEOPLE.

Anyway.

We met them. They were very nice. The wife had a nice super big set of very fake tits. The husband was nice. A little smarmy. Creepy almost. But in a nice way. Like a used car dealer. But a nice used car dealer.

Who likes to fuck other women. 

While his fake big-boobied wife is getting slammed right there in the bed next to him.

So, after we met them for dinner, they later invited us to this party. An evite and everything. All very professional. We decided to give it a try. However, it took a little convincing to get Anne to go.

Ok, maybe a lot of convincing.

While the couple, Cindy and Greg were nice, they didn't overwhelm Anne. And by not overwhelm, I mean she didn't really see us getting together with them. 

Ever. 

So I had to use a little persuasion.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase can we go to the house party?!?!" 

Yeah, I begged a little bit. 

I told her that we didn't have to 'do anything' at the party. That if it was bad we could leave. That I would buy her a new car.

Ok, not the new car part. But I did cajole. And beg. And plead. I stated my case, and I guess the judge saw the validity of my argument, because Anne ultimately relented and agreed to go.

Wooooooo!!! House party!!!

Naked women!!! Lots of naked women!!!!

In a house.

Partying!

Anyway.

The theme for this little soiree was St. Patty's Day. Because, well, it was on St. Patty's day. 

Duh.

We needed to wear green.

And bring something to eat.

Oh, did I fail to mention that part? It seems that at a house party you eat a little dinner, mingle, and then go fuck a bunch of strangers. While your spouse does the same thing. Well both, actually. Eat dinner and, um fuck. Strangers.

As we were newbies to this whole new area of the swinger world, Anne and I were a bit perplexed as to what we should bring. Should we go fancy with some kind of hot dish like canapés or chateaubriand or go with something a little less formal like, um, gum?

Perhaps some cocktail weenies? HA! Weenies. 

Well, there certainly would be enough of THOSE at this party! 

ZING!

But I get ahead of myself. 

First we needed green clothing. Anne pulled out a dress that had some green in it. Was it her favorite dress? No. Was it typical slut wear? Well, uh, no again. But it would do. It was a nice summer dress with little fringe thingies at the bottom. It showed off her nice big breasts and made me want to slide those little fringes up her legs, bend her over and shove my cock into her from behind. 

But I could do that anytime. At home. Without all of those extra weenies.

So I controlled myself as she dressed in the green fringy dress. With matching green thong and bra. Well, actually, those were purple. But they did match each other. Look, let's not get fucking psycho about this whole green thing, ok?

As for me?

A green button down oxford shirt. And jeans. Cause if the party didn't work out, I could always go out and start fixing some broken copiers. Seriously, I looked like a dude from office services delivering the mail and believing that he was gonna be like Michael J. Fox in the Secret to My Success. Just call me Carlton Whitfield.

C'mon. Am I the only one that ever saw that fucking movie? No way. It's a classic. 

CLASS. IC.

Carlton Whitfield rules!

I think Anne called me that when she said it was time to go.

'Whitfield! Time to go fuck some people!'

Not really. 

I don't think Anne's ever seen the movie.

But, all greened and up and ready to par-tay, we headed out.

Without a dish.

Fortunately, we did stop at a store to buy a bottle of wine and a bag of chips.

Nice and classy.

Cheap cabernet and ruffles. 

But it would do. Look, its not like we were planning to see these people in various social settings around town. This was a group of men and women that wanted to FUCK. I mean, I think they would have been happy eating paste and drinking bug juice if that would get them to the cock and pussy just a little bit faster.

After loading up on our party goodies, we headed over to Cindy and Greg's house. They didn't live to far from us. In fact, they lived kinda close to some other friends of ours. In fact, as we drove onto their street, we realized that they lived almost in the backyard of the people we knew.

Non-swinger people.

Hmmmm. AWKWARD.

'Eric? Anne? What are you guys doing in our neck of the woods? And why are you wearing green? Anyway, Eric can you help me set up a wi-fi zone for my new internet router?'

But, we sucked it up, parked, gathered up our stuff and headed towards the house. Which was a bit far away from where we parked because there were a SHIT load of people already there.

Who knew that there were all these people swinging in the burbs ready to party down at the neighbor's house?

As we walked up to the place, we noticed that all of the windows were covered up. Wow, not too conspicuous. 

Nope. Nothin' going on here. Especially not hot and heavy fucking by a bunch of middle aged swinger folk. Nothing to see. Move along. Nice tits!

So, we walked up the steps and rang the bell at the front door. And?

Nothing.

'Everyone too busy deep throating cock to answer the goddamned door?'

I said on the inside.

Not good to piss off the hosts before we even get in the door.

Wait, was this even the right house? Had to be, right? I mean, who else would tape up the fucking windows? Maybe an ax-murdering psycho, but what were the odds that we stumbled upon that house?

After waiting a bit, we decided to just open the door and walk in.

To a television showing porn. 

Aimed right at the door. 

And not some of that namby-pamby Showtime softcore stuff. Oh no, this was full on penetration by some dude with a huge cock slamming it in and out of some bimbo with big hair, big tits and frosted lips. 

Big tits and frosted lips.

I like that. Maybe on a hallmark card?

'When you care enough to send the very best. Give 'em some big tits and frosted lips!'

After walking in past PornTV we immediately saw a woman standing in the foyer in a low cut top. With her tits spilling out.

Hmmm. Porn? Check. Slutting looking housewife woman? Check.

Yep. This was definitely the right house!

It was a nice house. 

To the right was the dining room. The table was covered with food. Quite the spread. Our chips would fit in and mingle quite nicely thank you! Lots of people were standing around talking. The women were dressed very scantily. And by scantily I mean asses and tits were hanging out. And the guys in the house were looking at them like starving men staring at a prime rib dinner.

Ready to eat.

I think Anne felt a bit overdressed. You know, wearing a dress and all.

Someone asked me to clear a paper jam out of the printer. 

Ha!

Funny.

Other than that, we were pretty much ignored at first. So we wandered into the family room and then further into the kitchen. We finally met up with Cindy and Greg. She was wearing a tight satin green top thing and he was, uh, how the fuck should I know what he was wearing? I was too busy staring at Cindy's tits. They proceeded to introduce us to a few people. 

No, not the tits. Cindy and Greg. They introduced us to other people at the party.

Friends of theirs. People who had come to parties at their house before. Do I remember their names? Fuck no. There was dude with wife dressed like a slutty pirate. Dude with wife who was pulling up her shirt to show everyone her tits. Black dude with skinny white wife. 

You get the picture.

Somehow, Anne and I ended up in the kitchen. Isn't that where most parties tend to gravitate? The kitchen? Well, regular parties. I couldn't see a swinger party gravitating to the kitchen. Fucking on a stove just can't be comfortable.

Cindy gave me some green plastic beads to wear.

Uhhhh, ok.

Beads?

It seemed that there was a whole 'ice-breaker' part of the evening where the women at the party tried to do stuff to earn the strands of beads from the men. Then, at some set time, the woman with the most beads would win a prize.

Like a free VD test.

Ha! 

I kid.

So, the party instantly morphed from the St. Patty's day theme to some kind of weird Mardi Gras bead-sex thing. Not that I was complaining. I mean, there were women bending over showing their asses, women pulling up their shirts, women letting men grab their boobies and all that kind of stuff.

And there was Anne and me. In the kitchen. By the stove.

And you know what? It was hot by the stove. 

Because someone was making cocktail weenies.

No seriously.

Why? 

Who the fuck knows why?!? 

You think I have any idea what normal conduct is at one of these things? For all I knew, next would be the quilting bee and a lively game of pictionary.

And the hot, sexy fucking and sucking? 

No idea.

Instead, I'm in the corner, drinking cheap red wine and sweating right through my green OfficeMax button down.

Anne of course, saved the day. How? Well, how else? She began to actually talk to people.

God bless that woman. I would have stood there all evening until I was either thrown out or told to go fax the TPS reports. 

. . . 

Office Space? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Damn, do you people ever watch ANY movies?

Whatever.

So, Anne had no qualms meeting people and finding out about their quirks and kinks.

She began chatting with some guy in the kitchen. His wife was wandering around and at one point stopped to say hi. He was a professor and also hosted parties. "How come you've never been to one of ours?" he asked.

Hmmmmm. Must have misplaced the invitation sport! 

'Douche.'

Well, that's what I said.

On the inside. 

Actually I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Besides, the guy was obviously interested in Anne's large breasts and could really have given a shit about what the Geek Patrol dude had to say. About anything.

From what I gathered, parties with Professor Porn were quite well attended and, like this one, also had themes. Like some kind of fucked up adults only prom.

'So, the prom committee has spent a lot of time coming up with the perfect theme for this year. And you know what you guys? It's not so easy to do. But me, Buffy, Meagan and Courtney thought about it real hard, and our theme for this year is Under the Sea and Getting Rammed from Behind on a Sand Bar. Any questions? Great cuz we know that this is gonna be the best prom ever!! Right guys!! Now let's go fuck!'

We also talked to Pirate lady. Well, I think she was a pirate. Or some kind of Scottish uh, peasant woman, uh, fuck, I don't know. She had nice hooters and was one of these artsy fartsy actress types. So she over-emoted everything.

Seriously. It was like watching a badly acted performance of community theater as she explained all about how she made the costume, how she loved acting and how she seemed to think that she was the most interesting and important person in the entire house. She also batted her eyes and talked about how she would do anything for my beads.

Blah, blah, blah.

Ok, sure, did I want to lean her over the hot stove and let her sample my love sausage? Well, yeah, of COURSE I did, but, um, hmmm, wait, where was I?

Oh yeah, the kitchen. With Patty Pirate and Professor Porn. It was quite a scene. There was also tall lady with foreign accent husband. Fat old lady with huge boobies and grey bald guy. Amazing. He was both grey and bald. 

I think.

Whatever. 

I really wasn't paying attention to the guys. Just the number of new women spilling into the kitchen. They kept on coming in. In fact, the house was fucking packed. 

Some of the women were really attractive. Some were, well, not.

And the guys? None were really doing it for Anne. She wasn't staring at any of the guys with drool coming out of the side of her mouth. Well, at least not that I could see. 

I mean, she didn't elbow me in the stomach and say,

"I'd love to ride that stud's fuck stick."

Actually, I'm pretty sure that Anne has never used the term fuck stick. 

Me? I use it all the time. In fact, my nickname at work is fuck stick.

"What's happening fuck stick?"

"Hey fuck stick! Wanna grab some lunch next week?"

"Fuck stick?!? Those goddamned papers aren't gonna turn themselves into a pdf document. C'mon! Get a move on it!"

No, not really. 

But it would be a cool nickname.

As the conversation eventually petered out in the kitchen and I actually began to imagine getting the words 'fuck stick' tattooed on my shoulder, Anne suggested that we go and wander around the house. Which was a good idea. Because there were now waaaaay too many people in the kitchen and between the thousand degree stove chock full of weenies and all those sweaty bodies, I needed to get some air. 

So, we wandered to the dining room, where all the food was laid out. Here we were, at least an hour into the party, and the amount of food was actually growing on the table. Seriously, people kept bringing more in and dropping it off on the table. And no one was eating it. What's the deal with swinger house parties and the rediculous amount of food on the table?

'Can we get naked yet?' 'Nope, not enough roast beef and turkey on the buffet table.' 'How about now?' 'Wait for the four pounds of potato salad to arrive and we'll talk about it.' 'This party blows.'

Anyway, Anne grabbed a chip.

Way to dig in to that mound of sustenance honey!

Of course, that was one more chip than I ate. 

I was a little nervous. Why? I'm not sure why. I was really out of my normal comfort zone. I mean, I was chatting with Professor Porn for God's sakes. And pirate lady wanted my, uh, beads.

Speaking of which, as I watched, women continued to do various things in order to get the beads. Bumping and grinding and touching and smacking. Lifting up shirts, bending over and showing asses, re-grouting shower stalls. 

You know. The usual stuff.

Some women had lots of beads. Other women had none.

But baby bears' beads were juuuuuust right.

Anyway.

After strolling around the house for a while, we ended up on the back patio.

'Ok,' I thought to myself. 'This is it. This is where all the action is. This is where the rubber meets the road. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Time to shape up or ship out. Uh, where the salt gets it on with um, pepper.'

ok.

'Time for some serious making out and groping! Wooo! Backyard fun in the hood! Lookout bitches!!!'

The reality? A few people sitting around drinking wine and a couple of folks smoking cigarettes.

Wow. Now that's what I'm calling some action!

*sigh*

So, we were out back. Chatting. No action. Nice people though. 

I think. 

I kept looking around. In the house. In the backyard. Hoping to catch sight of all of the house party fun that I've heard so much about. A glimpse of naked female flesh perhaps? Hell, any flesh at that point would have been exciting. But sadly there was just chatting.

And mixed nuts.

Hello, what? NUTS?

On the table I mean. There were some mixed nuts to snack on while people drank and smoked. I mean, it would be kind of fucking bizarre if some guy actually had his testicles laid out on the fucking table, wouldn't it?

Anyway, just as I was about to nod off to sleep and have my face crash down into the cashews and almonds and those nasty giant nuts that I never know the name of, Cindy came out and said that it was time for the prizes.

THANK GOD!!! PRIZES!!!

I really didn't know how much more of this fucking fun that I could take. 

As we headed in, Anne, who was behind me, turned to one of the guys who was out on the patio with us and calmly asked him what she needed to do for a string of his beads.

Excuse me? Um, did I hear that correctly? I turned to look and found myself staring at some guy's head now firmly buried in my wife's breasts.

Really?

Can I get a ticket for that motor boat ride too? 

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!!

Mmmmmmmm, titties.

Except I was imagining my face plastered into some breast meat while some other dude was actually partaking of my wife's fleshy globes.

I stood there with my mouth open as said fellow proceeded to extract his noggin from my wife's sweater mounds and then handed her a set of his precious beads. Anne smiled and walked by me into the house. With her newly won beads proudly draped around her neck.

So now she's getting crazy? Now she's going nuts? Right when they're awarding prizes for the most beads???

Perfect.

Oh, and she then proceeded to take ALL of my strands of beads and put them around her neck.

Wait a minute. I had beads.

I HAD BEADS!!

And I didn't do a fucking thing with them. 

Didn't ask a woman to lift up her shirt, let me drown myself in her tit flesh or bend her over and spank her bare bottom. 




Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 13



Not one thing.

Because I'm an idiot? 

That, my friends, is a very good working theory. So there we were. Me and Anne. Standing in the room with all these other folks, my wife proudly displaying her beads along with the rest of the ladies.

And me with my dick in my hands.

Well, figuratively. Because me standing there with my dick in my hands would be a bit weird. Which is in itself kind of weird seeing as how we were at a goddamned swinger's house party where every guy should have his dick in his hand. Or some woman's hand. Or pussy. 

Or something.

Instead, we stood in the room as Cindy and Greg talked about how they were going to give out prizes to the three women that had collected the most beads in the past few hours. Past few hours??? God, this was like the longest party in the entire fucking universe!! I think I've been to dental appointments that had more excitement than this. 

Well, with less boob flashing. 

And more novocaine.

And drilling. 

Ok, maybe the dental appointments weren't more fun, but it still seemed like this party felt like it was fucking dragging on forever.

Cindy then pulled these giant baskets of stuff out from under the couch. Or magically from the air. Or perhaps from Greg's ass. I have no idea. I mean, one minute it was an empty coffee table, then next minute these giant freakin cellophane wrapped door prize baskets of stuff were sitting on it.

What was in the baskets? 

How the fuck should I know? 

Could have been a pressed ham. 

Or 17 giant dildoes. 

Or maybe a frozen cat. I really wasn't paying much attention. 

What I noticed more was the energy. The vibe. It was like I imagined how people would be right before the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain. You know, the event where hundreds of people run down the street in front of a shitload of angry bulls? People run, screaming as the bulls chase them. They can be seriously injured or killed, yet year after year people do it. 

Why? 

The excitement? 

The thrill? 

The love of bovines? 

I have no idea why.

Where was I going with this?

Oh yeah, that feeling of nervous energy. I mean, it filled this tiny room in this average house in the middle of suburbia. The knowledge that something was coming next. Something that all of these average, everyday people were waiting for. Something, I don't know, dangerous? Wrong? Taboo?

Cindy gave a basket to Pirate Patty. As she started her acceptance speech, I noticed that I wasn't the only one that wasn't listening. The party, as well as the nervous energy was moving.

That's right.

Moving.

Where?

"The bedrooms are now open," said Greg, with a huge shit eating grin on his face.

And, like the crowds in Pamplona, all of these average, everyday green covered people RAN, not walked, RAN into the bedrooms. Clothes were shed so fast that I think I saw a shirt actually burst into flame.

"And I want to thank the members of the academy," droned on Pirate Patty as the fucking commenced. I mean, it was instantaneous. 

I looked over at Anne. She had that look on her face. The one that I've grown to see and understand immediately.

'WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO NOW DUM DUM?'

I smiled. I mean, what could I say? This was just plain weird. I know that I was looking forward to naked women and perhaps some action, but these people were acting like it was the last fuck they would ever have.

Ever.

Anne and I looked into the bedroom. There were roughly eight couples on the bed and another half dozen or so standing around them. Watching. The couples on the bed? All I could see were these pale while bony asses pumping up and down. Every once in a while you could hear a moan or gasp, but for the most part it just all seemed, I don't know, robotic? It wasn't so much pleasure going on as opposed to just mechanical thrusting. Fast. Mostly silent. Thrusting.

Ew.

This wasn't sexy.

This wasn't hot.

These were soulless automatons trying to get their rocks off as fast as they could.

Anne was right.

What the fuck did I get us into? 

I smiled weakly at Anne. On the inside I groaned. Because I knew.

Like you know about a ripe melon.

Time to start planning the exit strategy.

No passing go. No collecting two hundred dollars. No getting some hot bimbo to sit on my face and wiggle.

"W-why," I said to Anne, "don't we check out the other, um bedroom?" She looked at me. What I thought at first was a glare was actually a look of understanding. Compassion. She knew that I was just trying to show her a good time. Spice up our lives. She knew that I didn't know what we would find when we got here in fucked up house party-land

She knew.

Whew.

Of course, that look quickly morphed into one that screamed, 'Yes I do love you but I still think you're an idiot.' 

Whatever. I'll take what I can get!

"Fine," she answered. So we left the first bedroom.

And almost ran smack dab into the little naked dude with a hard-on walking around the living room.

I'm sorry. What?

You know, what party doesn't need a small naked man with an erect penis?

I can't think of one.

Oh, and he had a HUGE shit-eating grin on his face.

'I'm getting so much big person pussy that I think I'm gonna fucking explode!'

At least that's what I believe he was thinking.

Seriously, he was like five feet tall. Naked. Erect. Oh and hairy.

Anne hurled.

No. She didn't hurl for real. Mentally hurled.

God, some women don't know how to handle a tiny hairy horny hombre.

Which actually works because he did look slightly Hispanic.

His little grin actually got a bit bigger as he proceeded to run back into the first room, his cock bouncing all the way.

Back to the fucking my small yet aroused friend! God bless and good luck!

Anne and I stood for a few seconds. Just taking that moment in for a few. We looked to see if there were anymore small naked people lurking about. Seeing none, we wandered into the second room. It was smaller, darker and had less bony asses sticking in the air.

Oh, and Pirate Patty was in here.

Putting on a show.

Of course.

"OH JUST LIKE THAT! YES, HARDER! HARDER! FUCK ME! YES, NOW RUB MY PUSSY! UH HUH, JUST LIKE THAT! YES, OH YES! NOW MOVE A LITTLE TO THE LEFT! UH HUH. NOW BACK TO THE RIGHT! GOD, OH I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I'M SO GOOD!!!"

I thought the director was gonna yell cut at any moment. Holy shit was she annoying. Seriously, how could you fuck someone like that? There were a few other people in the room, but they were completely overwhelmed by her stage presence. She was like a bad TV reality show. 'Suburban fucker moms and their desperate partners.'

I think its on right after Horders.

I looked around the dark room and noticed that there was an empty single bed.

The thing was, even after all of this - the hot kitchen, the door prizes, the bony asses, tiny naked hairy men, I was still thinking - 'yeah. I could fuck.'

Sue me. 

I'm a guy.

So, I looked over at Anne and then at the bed. She looked at me. Then at the bed. I smiled. Looked back the bed.

"OH GOD FASTER. RAM YOUR COCK INTO ME FASTER! NOW SLOWER! SLOWER! LET ME FEEL IT! FASTER! GODDAMN YOU FASTER!"

"Yeah," said Anne. "Not gonna happen."

He shoots! 

Misses.

We left second bedroom and Patty directing her first orgasm. And ended up back in the living room. Where Greg and Cindy were now sitting on the couch. Cindy's tits were still managing to stay in her tiny green satin top. I have no idea how. Tape? Springs? A little luck o' the Irish? We sat with them and chatted. I wondered why they weren't in one of the rooms enjoying the fun.

"How come you guys aren't having fun with the others?" asked Anne. She obviously didn't have the conversation just going on in her head. She talked to people.

God bless that woman.

"Oh, well Cindy isn't feeling too well right now," said Greg as he leered at Anne, "but I was planning on having some fun later." He now smiled and leered at Anne. 

He smeered.

"Hopefully you'll join me."

Smeer.

Have you ever seen a woman's skin literally try to crawl off the rest of her body and then run out of a room. Because I swear that's what Anne's did as Greg smeered at her.

"Uhhhh,"" was all Anne's skinless jaw could utter.

Cindy coughed and smiled. Her giant balloon tits wobbled precariously, but the shirt held. Man, those little leprechauns were doing an amazing job holding those pontoons in there.

"I'm sure that Cindy is gonna rally and perhaps you two can get together as well," said Greg, his smeer turning to me. I looked over at Cindy. She wheezed. Smiled again. Coughed hard. What the fuck did she have? The flu? Pneumonia? Bubonic plague? 

And Greg wants me to try and fuck her while he eats my wife?

No, not lick her pussy. 

I really think he wanted to eat her.

"Wow," I said, "well, um, we'll see." What do I do? What do I do? 

I felt my own skin begin to tingle, ready to make a fast break.

And then the twelve year olds walked in.

Seriously. This couple walked into the living room, obviously just arriving at this house of fucking horrors.

And they were twelve.

Ok, maybe thirteen.

Greg and Cindy said there hellos. And by hellos I mean Greg smeered at the girl and Cindy coughed up a lung. They sat on the other couch. I gawked. I'm sure I gawked. Anne asked them how old they were. I mean, flat out asked. Why the fuck not? She had no skin, the dude next to her wanted to feast on her with a nice chianti and some fava beans and Typhoid Mary was slowly infecting us all with her deadly strain of malaria.

A perfect time to find out about the kids.

Turns out they were in their twenties.

Really? Cause I know when I was sixteen I had a fake ID that said I was in my twenties as well.

Fine. Whatever. They were in their twenties. That still didn't explain what they were doing at a party in the middle of the suburbs with a bunch of horny forty year olds.

"We just have trouble relating to people our own age," the boy said.

Yeah, cause they're into video games, ice cream and passing notes in class. Not fucking old people with fake tits and sagging bellies.

But a connection was made. Greg was smeering at the girl and Cindy sneezed on the boy.

A match made in heaven.

I grabbed Anne's skin, pulled the rest of her body to her feet and headed towards the door. 

The party went on into the wee hours of the morning. Fucking and sucking all night long.

Anne and I didn't fuck anyone that night.

Not even each other.

But, after a good long hot shower using lots of antiseptic soap, we decided that perhaps the whole house party thing wasn't for us.

Well, maybe not.

Thanksgiving is coming.

You never know. 

Gobble Gobble!