WELCOME TO WONDERLAND
THE JOURNALINGS OF A SEEKER OF PLEASURE
Copyrighted USA 2008,2010,2013
For my beautiful wife Wendi, you have been my rock, my heart and soul along with my partner and best friend in these adventures.
We have survived much together and we have laughed, cried, shared pain and sorrow plus so much more and I am a better man for having gone through it all with you.
My Love Always,
To pass or journey over or through; traverse: travel the roads of Europe.
The act or process of traveling; movement or passage from one place to another.
A series of journeys.
An account of one's journeys.
Activity or traffic along a route or through a given point.
My travels, on the surface, probably wouldn’t merit a second thought by the “vanilla” world at large but, unbeknownst
to me, combined with other life experiences folded into it has surprisingly by accident created a guide for others a little more hedonistically adventurous to follow in their own way.
phi·loso·phy (fi läs′ə fç):
love of, or the search for, wisdom
m or knowledge
theory or logical analysis of the principles underlying conduct, thought, knowledge, and the nature of the universe: included in philosophy are ethics, aesthetics, logic, epistemology, metaphysics, etc.
the general principles or laws of a field of knowledge, activity, etc. the philosophy of economics
a particular system of principles for the conduct of life
a treatise covering such a system
a study of human morals, character, and behavior
mental balance or composure thought of as resulting from the study of philosophy
All of the above definitions describe my life. Some of my travels are far more memorable than others, just like yours must be at this point in your life, but all of them led me to where I am at this moment in time. I have learned much and, at times, have sometimes paid a price for what I learned. Much of the time, the price I paid was due to my own stubbornness and refusal to compromise… even at times when to do just that might have been the more appropriate or “socially acceptable” choice.
The journey I have been on like I said a moment ago hasn’t always been an easy or happy one to be sure but it has always been interesting. It has cost me many things that, in the long scheme of things, may or may not be really important but they were still losses many might think impossible to endure and there are still times when I myself have wondered if the cost was too high or possibly too painful for what I had to go through to attain what I ended up with.
In spite of that I continue to meet countless other soul’s who have come to the same or similar crossroads, yet from a different direction, I once found myself at and they want to take the next step and explore exactly what is just behind that looking glass. They’ve stared into it all of their lives without a second thought… or at least seriously consider what might be behind it at long last. They want to debate the possibilities. Maybe this will be the springboard for that debate.
Where to start is an easier question to ask than to answer but I’m going to make a valiant attempt to do so in this book and in my postings from here on out, on that note…
From a short distance away the building doesn’t look anything special. The buildings on either side almost hide it from sight by their presence next to it. The only illumination in the neighborhood comes from the street lights. The vacant lots surrounding them and dotting the streets make them look even more remote than they really are. The one in the center seems almost foreboding in comparison though. Four stories high, painted black or some other dark color with no visible windows facing the street. Indented in the center of the building is a softly glowing column of light that fans out near the top of the first floor to meet the sidewalk. A series of colorful, sparkling shapes cascade slowly down from the top of the column and disappear just above the street level. I, along with countless other people I do and don’t know, have often heard of this place but have never dared to go there.
Tonight I’m feeling adventurous, scared shitless but adventurous. With each step closer everything comes into a clearer focus. My footsteps echo louder and louder on the wet pavement in the silence and my heart pounds harder. The column is shaped and styled like someone’s fantasy idea of a tree made out of a white translucent plastic that emits various colors all through it that change randomly every few seconds. From the top of the building extends a multi-layered awning made up of dozens of leaf shapes in different sizes and levels of opacity that extends out over the sidewalk and into the street that is somehow absent of traffic, protecting the building from the elements. At the top of the “tree” a panel pops out and descends down the length of the tree slowly spinning followed by another and another and so on. On one side of the panel is a cartoon depiction of one of the characters from an all too familiar children’s book. The other side has a high definition flat screen TV showing people dancing, drinking and eating. The panels eventually reach to a spot just above street level and disappear into a slot in the tree. It all has this part fantasy, part post apocalyptic industrial feel and look to it that somehow is oddly comforting given the surroundings.
At the base of this tree where it has spread out at street level was an entrance shaped like something an animal would have dug between the root system to create a burrow or entry. At that entrance I’m met by two large men in tailored suits who look like they used to be the front line of some NFL team not too long ago. They check my ID and allow me in just far enough to give my entrance fee to an attractive young woman sitting behind a bulletproof teller’s window and blindly proceed down a dark corridor where an unseen hand stops me dead in my tracks.
“Careful of the ramp here” replies a male voice from the dark as he grabs ahold and helps me sit down on an impossible to see slide and I shoot further into the dark twisting and turning down until I land on a giant red pillow in a room with red lights and walls. Another person helps me up, dusts me off as a waitress clad only in a gold waist chain with a symbol on it, a pair of platform stilettos with hearts, clubs, spades and diamonds on them, and a large green top hat joins him and says “Welcome to Wonderland” as he opens another door to another room. Without saying a word I follow her flaming red hair and perfect pale ass to my table …the journey begins.
…”WHO ARE YOU?”
…Asked the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied very shyly, “I…I hardly know sir, just at present… at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”
“Alice in Wonderland”
I’m sure it would be impossible to remember how many times people have asked us “Who are you?” not to mention how many times we’ve looked in the mirror and asked ourselves the very same question. Each time the answer was, more likely than not, different than the last time you were asked. If you’re a normal human being you’ve continued to grow and change daily… if not minute by minute. The interests and beliefs you had yesterday may not be the same as today yet sometimes some of us manage to never really know, or understand, who they are as a person. They may have a vague idea of who they’d like to be or who they think people want them to be but they really don’t know themselves or what THEY want in actuality.
Sometimes they may catch a glimpse of their inner self and may be terrified of what they saw and done everything in their power to prevent that from rising to the surface even going so far as to lie to themselves and everyone else as to who they might really be.
Sometimes people catch that glimpse and are shocked, but curious and cautiously explore that part of them, some just jump in with both feet and hope they don’t drown. Many of us do a mixture of all of that depending on the situation.
Then there are people like me. I’m more of a “Damn the Torpedo’s” type of person which can easily put me in some interesting situations when I least expect it (and then I wonder why I have heart issues… but that’s another story).
Regardless… life can only be an adventure if you know who YOU are and are brave enough and honest enough to follow the path you choose to take.
The life and lifestyle I live in is not all that different from yours probably. I have a spouse, children (at this stage of my life grandchildren as well), a house, a car, a dog, a job (if you want to call it that), social obligations and outlets, friends, political opinions, I vote, have favorite sports teams and all of the stress, pain and heartache that comes with the trappings of what everyone considers a “normal” everyday family life these days. I find myself from time to time mentally lusting after the hot bodied neighbor that looks amazing in a swimsuit just like everyone else does. Religion for me is personal and internal and like many of the people in my world, holds those beliefs in surprisingly high regard. I don’t wear it on my sleeve or trot it out as a badge of honor nor do I hold people in contempt if they don’t believe as I do. Seemingly, in many ways the similarities are greater than the dissimilarities between us. How I choose to live my life is, however, worlds away from yours probably at this point in your life, but something brought you and I here together to find out…what?
My name is Doc Anderson. I’m a writer, painter and photographer who has been fortunate enough to travel a great portion of the globe documenting sensual experiences you won’t find in the majority of the books and magazines at your local bookstore in their travel section or online…unless you know where to look. In spite of that you may have come across things I’ve written, illustrated or photographed countless times throughout your life and just didn’t know it. It would all depend upon your choice of reading material and internet searches I would guess.
Along with my wife Lynn and many of our friends and lovers we’ve known through the years I’ve compiled a different kind of travelogue for you to examine from our view of things. A “Swinger’s eye view of the world we all live in” if you will. Don’t let the word “swinger” scare you away from the get-go there is more to the term than most people realize and we’re going to explore that in depth as we go.
It will be intimate, intense at times and, hopefully, insightful for you. Enjoy the ride. Reading is the safest way there is to travel until you know where it is you want to go. So you have nothing to fear…for now.
I found myself with a little free time this early evening so I took a few moments to figure out how to tell all of this to you.
Two of Lynn’s girlfriends are here after an afternoon of shopping the three of them had spent for an upcoming party. The three women have been in and out of the bedroom for the past couple of hours trying on and modeling what they bought for each other and, at times, for me. (It’s very much a visual verification our finances may be in serious jeopardy after today but you can’t help but enjoy what you’re seeing regardless of that.)
In between (and/or during) clothing changes they’ve been seductively playing and teasing with each other causing the occasional moan, shudder and scream with pleasure to come from in the bedroom while, I will find out a short time later, soaking our black silk sheets with cum beyond anyone’s imagination (yes women ejaculate…by the gallons in many cases). If I hear another passionate “Oh God!” from any of them I fear I may have to nominate them all for sainthood. From the sounds of things they’re not going to come up for air any time soon soooo here I sit with a drink next to me….writing all of this stuff down while I get my bearings on how to explain this all to you without confusing you any more than you might already be at this moment.
The sound system is playing a mix of old and new songs in a variety of musical styles loaded into it that travels throughout the house and causes the girls to break out in little dances from time to time as they move through their modeling session and it always makes me chuckle when they do. Dancing is not a strong suit for many of the women we know (they all seem to have the same dance move regardless of the music that they’ve used since high school) but they look a helluva lot better at it trying than the men do…especially me. I’ve been known to have paramedics arrive at a nightclub because someone thought I was having a seizure on the dance floor embarrassing my wife and everyone else with us on those occasions. I now relegate myself to voyeuristically enjoying everyone and their antics from the safety of my table. I’ll let the other guys pretend they’re John Travolta.
Is it always like this around our house? Honestly no…but it’s not dull either. There are more evenings like this here than at most people’s homes but then the circumstances surrounding our lives at this point in our journey affords us the ability to do this a little more often than most. The kids are grown and gone with families of their own to take care of so our life, and the time it contains, is ours to do with as we please. Being spontaneous is more a way of life than an occasional happy accident because of that and we take full advantage of this as often as possible. Life is too short not to. Besides that, people in our world find it hard to pass up a perfectly good opportunity to enjoy themselves in whatever way they can when that given moment presents itself. Something that people with children or other family members at home have to devote a little more planning to.
I know you may be wondering why such a scene like this is happening in the first place and why I’m not in there getting seriously laid or, at least, watching. I will be soon enough. You’re also, no doubt, wondering why these women are in the bedroom openly fucking each other as well and how in the world that happened. First, because they can, the lifestyle we lead allows for that to happen openly and honestly. (I know this is probably every man’s fantasy, but be careful what you wish for. Read further on before you start planning for this to, possibly/ hopefully, happen in your own life.) Second, they’re bisexual and like to enjoy each other physically, sexually and emotionally from time to time. It’s a part of who they are and not done to fulfill some man’s fantasy (specifically mine at this moment) and while we’re on that subject…
Not every woman is bisexual. True, these days there seems to be more women who are than aren’t. Books, magazines, TV, movies and Internet sites certainly would like you to think that every woman out there has a secret desire to have sex with another woman at any time or place. Why that is no one’s been able to figure completely out yet. While women are wired differently than men and may have built-in leanings that way, (which still haven’t yet been clearly confirmed or understood by the world at large scientifically or socially), some never give in to that side of themselves (or may never have it at all) so never make the mistaken assumption that all women want to do that, or more to the point… want to do it to fulfill your fantasy, and expect it to happen. (While we’re at it guys…don’t try and force the issue or set something like this up. It’ll probably backfire and damage your relationship. Let things happen naturally…if it’s going to happen at all. You’ll be a lot happier and probably live a lot longer.) The women that truly are Bi (a subject discussed at length a little later) need a different type of intimacy now and then. The things that turn a woman on are many times not even on a man’s list of possibilities or in his bag of tricks…much less his radar. That also means that I (and you as a male), often lack the wrong equipment, plus the tact (and possibly the sensitivity) needed at this particular moment in time. It doesn’t mean I am, or you are, not loved and cared for by my (your) wife (and a great many other women that clueless guys will never stand a chance with) but…
Lastly, this type of activity happens because we’re all in a lifestyle where it’s OK to have “Friends with Benefits” (aka: Swinginers, Lifestylers or whatever else people try and call us.) so like I had said a moment ago… it’s perfectly normal to do things like this around here. It becomes pretty much second nature to us and the people most involved in our lives.
When people hear those terms (and others like them) they generally conjure up some impossible fantasy of wild, indiscriminate, sex all day every day with anybody who walks by whether it be a delivery person, a co-worker or whatever. They also, incorrectly, assume that such people like us are over-sexed and lack some sort of moral compass so we are “easy to get a piece of” in our interactions. Nothing could be further from our lives…much less the truth, regarding swinging as a whole. (I once kiddingly described the lifestyle as being more like a bowling league but without the cool shirts with your names on them.)
Yes we’re in tune with our sexuality at a level most people don’t usually have (yet) but it doesn’t mean we don’t have boundaries, preferences and ground rules. It’s more sensual and sexual than what the vanilla world is accustomed to and yet has its own social practices and rules most every vanilla person has never heard of or realized. In our own way we’re more prudish and regulated than the rest of the world on a whole. (Hang in there with me and you’ll find out why.)
The one thing I’ve learned from being a swinger for so many years is pacing. That’s also why I’m sitting here writing this instead of in the bedroom right now.
I have seen, painted, and photographed women make love to each other so many times over the years it isn’t necessary to add that visual memory to my, already crowded, brain right at this moment. (Although another glass of Bourbon might be nice.) Our home bears witness to this erotically charged lifestyle we lead with all of the sculpture, photos and artwork that either I’ve created, participated in creating or we traded fellow artists for or acquired in our travels around the world. (It’s a visual tribute to the sexual energy of the world at large and always in a state of flux without repeating anything unnecessarily. The world is far more vast and sexual than you might imagine it to be. Don’t let the Puritanical thinking here in the U.S. cause you to believe so otherwise, you’d be selling yourself short on potentially interesting experiences.)
Besides that, like many men at some point in their life I can only pop my wad two or three times in the course of an hour or so before I have to crawl away and collapse from exhaustion (and possible embarrassment). Women, on the other hand, are Energizer Bunnies who just keep going and going and going… So it’s to my advantage to let them wear each other out before I jump into the fray. That way we’ll (hopefully) raise the white flag and give up at the same time allowing me to retreat honorably instead of uselessly standing there with a limp dick in my hand and wrinkled fingers from all of the juices they found deep inside these amazing women and raw lips from foolishly thinking I could drink them all.
Also, like I just said, I have enough memories (and pictures) of these (and other) girls playing that I don’t need any more right now. It’s probably quite doubtful they need any new ones for their profiles on the swinger’s websites they belong to (and pretty much every swinger out there belongs to at least one site these days) even though we all update our pictures on a pretty regular basis for good reason. The lifestyle requires visual and sensual stimulation to make a connection a great deal more so than the vanilla world and first impressions in our world is probably far more important than they should be but they are. For that reason alone we all strive to stay current with, not only, our looks but our preferences and attitudes in hopes of attracting like minded people to our little circle of friends, which means constantly updating pictures here, there and everywhere.
Contrary to popular opinion (mostly for the guys) you can have too many pussy and cock shots. Pussies don’t change shape or appearance that much and guys…if the world wants to see how big you are, they’ll ask. Advanced marketing is kinda like spam these days and get deleted just as quickly.
So here I sit reflecting on all of the fun we’ve had over the past several years and how I want to present them to you without scaring the shit out of you (or having you cum prematurely). Especially since my wife Lynn entered my unusual and sometimes colorful, life after more than a decade of being a “divorced single male” (a label than can reduce even the best of them to the sidelines quickly you’ll discover as we go) and having to fly through the social maze the lifestyle creates for such men attempting to do it solo. She has definitely ramped up the activity level in my life in a wonderful way. With her very firmly and lovingly (not to mention passionately) planted in my life a long lost and missed sense of “normalcy” was brought back into my life which I greatly cherish her for. (To answer a question that almost immediately is asked about our lifestyle…NO…infidelity wasn’t a contributor to my divorce on either side of the equation, nor was sex. Divorce happens these days no matter what lifestyle you live in. It was a boringly simple fact that we grew in separate directions and didn’t want the same things anymore and were smart enough to recognize that. In fact my ex became my kid sister so-to-speak and is close to my wife and me and is still very much involved with my entire family who thinks the world of her. It takes a special relationship to successfully be in this lifestyle as you’ll learn as we go. If you’re thinking you might “fix” an unstable relationship by reading this book and giving it a try…stop reading right now…it’s not going to happen. If you’re looking to “expand the horizons” of a good relationship…read on.)
I remember all of the memorable parties (and, unfortunately, some of the bad ones as well) I’ve attended and the boat load of parties Lynn and I have thrown before and after we got married. We’re gearing up for yet another next weekend and its showing signs of being better (and probably more expensive) than any we’ve thrown before.
I got a sneak party preview earlier when the girls modeled some of the stuff they intend to wear that night (for the short time they’ll probably be dressed) plus a few things they bought today just for the fun of it (Fashion Week in New York has nothing on our house. It has far more variety and creativity without the pretentious attitude that goes on there.).
I’m sure you’re quickly imagining item after lacey item of non-existent lingerie, thigh high stockings, “Fuck Me” pumps and assorted stripper shoes. True there is usually some of that but, more often than not, it’s flirty, sexy “off the rack” stuff from your favorite clothing retailer worn with more erotic imagination than the average clothing designer or runway model could have thought of. (A petite, tiny little friend of ours is known to wear a basic tube top as a skirt when she goes out which is always appreciated by everyone who encounters her.) Not to mention some of the kinkiest clothing ever designed that you can find in specialty stores and actually have a place to wear them other than the bedroom.
Women in our lifestyle have a sixth sense for finding party clothes (and everyday clothes for that matter), sexy shoes and accessories right under the Sunday school teacher’s noses at all the well known department stores and retailers in your local mall and online (The UPS and FedEx guys know us by name and sight here). This also means most women in the Lifestyle have more than one closet full of insanely wonderful things. (Lynn has three closets already at the moment and has been eyeing my only meager closet as I write this for several weeks now.)
Watching three beautiful women struttin’ their stuff in next to nothing is a stimulating way to spend an afternoon to say the least. (And a reminder to get my Cialis prescription refilled NOW.) I personally never tire of seeing shapely, well toned, legs in heels attached to an attractive woman wearing very little else as their boobs bounce and butts wiggle seductively as the sun fades through the windows casting orange and purple glows on everything and everyone. The shadows it creates are as dramatic and seductive as the people who make them happen.
I never tire of being asked “ Whadya think?” as a woman walks in wearing something that would make even a blind man’s cock rock hard at just the thought of it all, does a slow turn and then stands there, sometimes doing a little dance to the music, waiting for a response. I can do that the rest of my life…happily.
The parties and events for people like us in the “Swinging” lifestyle over recent years have been “Off the Hook” to coin a currently popular phrase by a hip new TV celebrity chef named Guy Fieri. There were so many sexy things to do and people to meet, it was impossible to take them all in each year…although we tried. Just when you think you’ve seen and done it/them all…someone ups the ante. A casual evening at a nearby bar or nightclub can quickly transform into a visual, sexually charged night of thrillingly dressed, attractive people teasing, touching, groping, playing and more. The place will be filled with decadent food and cocktails all the time serenaded by hypnotic music well chosen by some of the hottest Dj’s and musicians in the world at the drop of a hat. They tend to feed off our energy and put on better than usual performances and playlists because of it.
The conversations will come quick and lively filled with sexual energy and intent. We, as a group are well versed in the art of seduction (and it is an art) and aren’t afraid to use it on each other when the appropriate moment presents itself. You’ll find yourself swept away by the thoughts of what may yet happen tonight as the words take on more intensity and the sexual vibe between you and the person across from you jumps to another level. Before you know it you’re entwined in a sea of naked bodies as the smell of sex makes your head spin. Wet lips finding mouths, cocks, pussies and more, as you happily and willingly fill any part of a body that is offered to you. The next morning could leave you with a warm glow and the feeling you’d lived a dream last night and wanting more much like a drug that has awaken your senses from a deep sleep.
On the next night it could be a party on a yacht, house boat, in a penthouse or McMansion and a pool or spa filled with naked playful people with a wine cellar full of vintage, hard to find, wine to consume or a typical suburban backyard…you can never know what might happen next or where it might happen once the ball starts rolling.
Each year shows signs of being bigger, wilder, sexier and more amazing than the last (if that’s possible). Largely because the Internet Swing Sites keep getting bigger and better (and more of them it seems) plus they get more aggressive in their approach while branching out into the travel industry to take advantage of group discounts at intensely decadent locations all over the world that pretty much only swingers know about and they all want to keep their members horny, happy and continue to be their members.
The sheer numbers of people grow every year as well. I can look at the “new members” section of any swing site out there and see page after page of people who have joined in just the past few days or weeks. Even after eliminating duplicate memberships on other sites the numbers are mind blowing.
If you haven’t started down that path yet we’ll, hopefully, be able to point you in the right direction to meeting people like us or others you might be interested in and taking advantage of all the incredibly sexy and unique things this lifestyle can do for you as we go. If you’re an old hand at this it may explain a few things that have (or haven’t) happened to you…yet.
The most important thing to start with is how to meet people like us and what to do once you’ve met them as well as how often that happens. We’ll talk about that in more depth in a short bit as we go because it can be complicatedly easy to figure out some of the basics but a few things can fry your mind with do’s and don’ts you haven’t even thought of yet. How quickly all of this happens for you personally will probably depend on you and how serious you are about exploring this lifestyle to be sure.
As an example of what can happen once you get started and begin to know where to look we’ve added dozens of hot, sexy, fun new people to our circle of “friends with benefits” in the past year in the most surprising of ways and add a few more each week to our ever growing group of close friends we frequently play with (like Pam, the tan little pixie of a naked brunette wearing only a pair of glasses, platform heels and a gold waist chain who just walked in saying “I’ve come to fetch you.”, dropped to her knees by my desk, undid the linen shorts I’m wearing and started sucking on my dick while I’m writing this. Her lips are amazingly moist and I know from past experience she knows how you use them well. I’m always impressed by how much cock she can swallow and the intensely erotic feel of her tongue along the bottom of my shaft. Her perfume is drugging me with a new found desire I didn’t have a moment ago. To say it’s quickly becoming pleasurably distracting would be an understatement.).
Apparently the girls are ready for their close-up with “Mr. DeMille” before their husbands arrive in a short while so I’m going to have to wrap this up (Damn! This girl could suck the brass off a doorknob!). The guys will arrive from the charity golf tournament they’ve been at all day, hot, tired, thirsty and horny from flirting with the beer girl at the golf course all day saying “What have we missed so far?”, get an update then will, no doubt, waste little time catching up to all the energetic and pleasurable festivities that have taken place to this point. The girls, however, seem to have plans involving me before the guys get here. (This generally means they have other plans for me later that won’t involve sex.)
Once the guys get here we’ll all have a few drinks, play, suck, invade every imaginable orifice (and maybe one or two you can’t imagine) the women possess with toys and body parts turning our bed into a sea of arms, legs, asses and more as cocks and twats get kissed and licked, bodies caressed as moans and groans filling the room with the smell of sex and sweat that you can hardly distinguish one from the other before taking our tired, sweaty bodies and retreating to the pool or spa to cool off and enjoy another cocktail or two. Somewhere at that point I’ll retreat to the kitchen. Most of the men in this lifestyle have mastered the art of cooking over the past couple of decades (for one reason or another) which has become a welcome perk for the women in our world. The majority of us males in our world can do a great deal more than open a can, microwave something, barbecue or field dress freshly hunted game these days. For me, my cooking skills are a little more advanced than the average bear so…
I’ll cook dinner (I told you they have plans) for us all while (several bottles of a fruity, but dry, Rose’ from Provence (Domaine Fontanyl if you can get it or Quinson Fils in a pinch, brown butter risotto with shrimp scampi and a “fresh from the garden” salad followed by a fresh peach foster for dessert) everyone will, eventually, be “resting” before digging into the food to replenish our energy levels.
Life in our world is casual and unhurried these days in what many people might call a “European mindset” filled with laughter and familiarity seldom seen these days in social experiences here in the United States. We have intentionally and successfully exorcised the evil mantra of “Eat it as fast as you can, don’t talk and move on as quickly as possible” that we’ve all been programmed to do pretty much since childhood here in the states. We cherish the food and company of our like-minded friends and playmates. The conversations that weave through our time together reflect the intimacy and social elevation we have achieved from life in general as well as with one another. Seldom does the conversation revolve around what we do for a living or resolving family issues and rarely do politics jump in as a main topic. Life, love, food, travel, the arts, sports, music and what makes the world really tick does along with healthy doses of fun with a seductive edge to it. Gone are the days of chips, deviled eggs, canned beer and catchy sexual conversation like “What’s your sign?” or “Nice shoes, wanna fuck?” the way it was when I first started out in this lifestyle… I don’t miss that for one moment. The conversation tonight will, eventually, wind its way back to sex (if it ever strays too far from it at all) which will prompt some slow but determined foreplay with each other, a casual stroke on a thigh, a nibble on the neck or nipple, a caress on an arm or other part of the body that will build in intensity for a while longer. The girls will get wet again and the guys will rise to the occasion once more. After that we’ll retreat back to the bedroom, wine glasses in hand, and do everything we did earlier all again…just because we can.
My sexy little friend has just put an exceptionally broad smile on her face as she looks up at me while rising from the floor gently brushing a nipple across my face. Her hand is still wrapped around my cock in a death grip on my, harder than usual (thanks to her), member and is determinedly dragging me out of my office while I desperately try and keep from falling on my face as I step out of my shorts, across the house and to the bedroom where Lynn and Karen are waiting for us (sort of). I walk in to see Lynn’s face buried between Karen’s legs as Karen aggressively mashes her tit’s and twists her nipples. Her entire body is shaking so hard it looks like she’s going to bounce herself and Lynn off of the bed. Pam has walked over to the bed and leaned onto it, keeping her feet on the floor and spread her legs while looking back at me. I don’t have to be told what she wants and where because, it won’t matter to her, both places get her seriously off. When she’s enjoying it you know it because that hole you’re in takes on a life of its own and spasms so hard she could almost cut someone in half so…let the fun begin.
Are you ready to find out who YOU might be?
It’s exactly what you imagine it to be if you’ve ever had Bananas Foster but with a nice seasonal twist.
1 stick of Butter
½ cup of brown sugar (light or dark)
4 large peaches peeled and sliced
¼ cup either spiced rum or bourbon instead of dark rum
Melt the butter in a large non-stick pan and add the brown sugar to it. Stir until the sugar has dissolved into a smooth caramel sauce then add the peaches. Stir continuously until the peaches are well coated with the caramel sauce. Remove the pan from the heat and add the ¼ cup of alcohol and return to the heat. If it does not ignite on its own use a long match stick to light it and flame off the alcohol, once the flame is gone spoon over the mixture on to a scoop of vanilla ice cream and serve.
NICE TO MEET YOU…
“Nice to meet you too at long last.” the lovely young woman says as she shakes hands with Lynn and I while making her way through our front door.
Rachel is here to interview us for a project she’s working on for a magazine. She had read some of my recent exploits in other books and publications and also had heard Lynn and I speak at a Human Sexuality class at a nearby college the other night. After the class she approached us about interviewing us further at a greater depth than the one hour allotted to us that evening. We exchanged cards (almost all people in our lifestyle have cards with their social e-mail addresses, phone numbers and other contact info, to include screen names for the sites they belong to etc., so they may exchange them with people for a variety of reasons these days. Think of them as a “Play Card” instead of a Business Card).
It was almost a month before Rachel contacted us and set up this meeting but here she stood in her short black skirt, tank top and heels with her little tape recorder and notepad ready to go to work.
We gave her a quick tour of the house, my studio and office and the grounds in general during the “getting to know you” idle chit-chat that always seems to happen at a first meeting before making our way back inside for the interview.
After offering her a glass of wine (which she quickly accepted) we settled in on the couches in the living room and I put on several soft instrumental CD’s into the sound system from Enigma and a soundtrack from a porn flick someone gave us (the movie was nice but the music is fantastic and comes as a separate CD) . Once she downed a couple of sips of her wine she nervously looked at us and, after a long pause, blurted “I don’t know where to begin now that I’m here. I don’t want to ask all of the dumb obvious questions everyone else has probably asked you but I don’t know how else to start!”
“Why don’t you start there and I’m sure we’ll all work into better questions before long.” I said to her as Lynn chuckled quietly while glancing at us both and sipping her wine.
“OKaaaaay.” Rachel says as she launches into “Both of you have been into “Swinging” (emphasizing the quotation marks with her fingers in the air) for a long time now…Lynn interrupts her there for a moment to say “He’s been in it for a very long time. I’ve only been in the Lifestyle for about ten years now.”
“Oh.” Was Rachel’s clearly perplexed response before starting to continue her question again when she stops dead in her tracks, looks at both of us then says “OK, I’ve heard of Swinging but what’s this “the lifestyle” you’re talking about?”
“A few years back many of the people who have just gotten into this whole scene within say the past five to ten years were arrogantly uncomfortable using the term “Swinger” for a variety of reasons but mostly because they said it sounded outdated. One of the terms that got thrown around was “Lifestyle” because swinging really does cause a person to make certain adjustments to their lifestyle and how they live life in general. The term kinda stuck even though the definition is still up for debate. Many people will tell you it’s not a lifestyle…they aren’t right or wrong on that. They’ll tell you it’s all dependent upon how involved you get in this whole thing. Personally I think it’s a chicken shit answer with too many caveats attached to the whole process but rather than cloud and confuse the issue…let’s call it a lifestyle and leave it at that for right now.”
“Fair enough, let’s move on.” Rachel responds while making a note in her notepad. “I know you gave an answer to this the other night in that class but I’ll ask it again. What exactly is swinging?”
“The simple explanation is two people in a healthy, happy, committed relationship who have consensual intimate sexual relationships together with other like-minded people.” was my response.
“That actually sounds pretty complicated.” Rachel says with a little smirk on her face.
“It can be. Swinging can have a million variations these days all custom fit to the people involved and their comfort levels and phobias but the main core is all the same.” was my response.
“Which is?” She asks slightly raising an eyebrow.
“You’re doing it TOGETHER openly, honestly, not behind someone’s back and you’re respecting each other’s limitations and comfort levels.” I say before going on further. “Lynn is my heart and soul as I am hers, our bond is so strong it would be impossible to come between us and the people we let into our personal circle are as equally protective of theirs as well. We try very hard to avoid the drama and dishonesty that befalls many relationships.”
Rachel takes a moment to absorb what I just said as she glances through the large floor to ceiling windows on either side of the fireplace and admires the lighted walkways through the gardens.
I give her that moment then continue:
“As an example, we were talking with a friend the other night who owns a successful bar here in Scottsdale. It’s just a short distance from here. His place is frequented by rich and high powered business people, doctors, lawyers, politicians and so on. At least once a month Lynn and I, along with a pretty sizeable group of our friends will have a gathering there. He and his staff love us because we’re so fun, friendly, and appreciative of everything they do for our group and we tip them well because of how nicely they treat us. The wine flows, the laughter never ceases and everyone has a wonderful time. Our friend was telling us he’d almost just as soon close his place and only open for our friends and people like them. The other “vanilla” people who come in have a built-in sense of entitlement and are arrogant, egotistical, obnoxious, cheating on their spouses with anyone and everyone yet expecting love and devotion when they get home and so on. “They’re everything you all aren’t. They’re so angry, self-absorbed and unhappy all of the time and you folks are so way above them and have none of that “me, me, me” attitude my other clients always seem to have all of the time it’s sickening!” he said.
“That’s part of what makes us different form the vanilla world and why they appear to dislike us so much.” I say to Rachel.
“So how did you get started?” was her question with little reaction to my previous statement.
I chuckle a little before starting in with…
“The first thing everyone asks me when they meet me and find out what I do in and out of my professional life is to ask me how I got involved in all of this and how they can get into it. Everyone seems to have at least one fantasy that involves some sort of sexual activity which falls into the world of swinging and they’re always a little more than curious about it. I suspect that’s why you wanted to do this interview, in part, right?” she somewhat timidly nods her head yes.
“How someone like me got into it we’ll learn as we go here and it probably isn’t how many people end up here.” It takes less than a second for the memories to come back to me.
(IN THE BEGINNING)
During the very early part of the seventies I was in college getting the first of three degrees in art. One of my Graphic Design instructors ran a small agency out of his classroom and would farm out freelance work to some of his students. I already had a well honed talent for painting and drawing people, especially in provocative poses. That talent proved useful to my teacher. Through him I ended up doing a couple of illustrations for a, long since defunct, adult magazine (which led to many more for other publications over the next thirty-five years). In October of 1973 I got a call from the editor of one of those magazines. “How far are you from Las Vegas?”
“About five or six hours away … why?”
“A friend of mine told me this swinger couple is supposedly throwing some righteous parties out there filled with all kinds of horny people and shit…you can write can’t you?”
“Then I want you to go over there and do a story about it and take a few pictures if you can. You’re the closest person I know out that way. Here’s the info…”
Las Vegas was not the originator of the house party, nor did they invent Swinging. It just happened that this couple, for whatever reason, was throwing legendary parties back then.
Two weeks later, after several phone conversations with the couple hosting the party and a bullshit excuse to my “day job” boss as to why I needed to go to Vegas for a class assignment (Which he didn’t entirely buy and fired me for later after he hired my replacement.), I found my girlfriend Michelle and me in a very upscale neighborhood west of the strip.
After driving through the gate and knocking on the door a gorilla in a suit allowed us just inside the door, and no further, while he went to get the hosts. As we looked around from our limited vantage point we could see half dressed people everywhere in a house as opulent as a palace filled with expensive ornate furniture and blue gray walls with gold accents and, what appeared to be, original paintings on the walls everywhere our eyes wandered and we could hear splashes and laughter from a pool blocked from our view by a dividing wall at the moment. The few who were still dressed were long haired hippie chick types in very short skirts and transparent tops with no bra’s talking to, what looked to be, showgirls, in very heavy makeup with shiny clothes so tight they looked like they’d been painted on, businessmen in, what could only be described as early efforts of, leisure suits talking to rock star wannabe’s in tight jeans and blousy sleeved swashbuckling shirts straight out of the movies, and any other human combination you can think of in every age and size. Despite the majority of them being more or less naked I started to feel hopelessly underdressed and slightly out of my league. From a reel to reel tape player visibly seen behind a bar in a room just off the foyer Sinatra’s “My Way” was giving way to Humble Pie’s “30 days in the Hole” while the aroma of freshly lit joints filled the house. Those that were already naked or with a towel wrapped around themselves seemed very at ease about it. Some were getting blow jobs, eaten or engaging in some form of foreplay; some were simply socializing and flirting while playfully squeezing various body parts of the people they were talking to. I looked over to Michelle (who’s jaw was squarely resting on the floor) and whispered “It seems were not in Kansas anymore Toto” just as our hostess arrived. (We wouldn’t meet our host until sometime later in the evening)
She was a stunning looking tall, tanned (natural) blonde in her early forties wearing a black see through floor length cover-up that tied just below her neck, a pair of fuzzy heels and nothing else. She carried herself like she could have been a showgirl at some time in her life and, given where we were, probably was. I don’t remember much about what she first said other than “Hi Doc. Nice to meet you.” because I was busy trying to keep my hard-on from bursting through my pants. (Something she noticed and found amusing enough to thump my cock with her knuckle while saying hello) She cheerfully gave us a tour, laid out the rules like “What happens here, stays here” (a catch phrase Vegas would adopt as their own some thirty years later) etc. and introduced us to a few of the other guests before disappearing into a room with several people. I couldn’t see what was going on because the gorilla was intentionally blocking my view but my imagination filled in the blanks nicely for the moment (he seemed to be everywhere that night). We wouldn’t see our hostess again until much later when she finally came back out looking disheveled and exhausted (and high).
At that time I was able to talk to her and her husband (who himself had finally surfaced just moments before), a tall dark haired man with a mustache who reminded Michelle and I of Robert Goulet.
So we stood there in the kitchen snacking on shrimp, cheese, olives and something we’d never heard of called pate’ (It looked like Deviled Ham to me so I tried it and found I enjoyed it) as I snapped a few pictures of them and those that allowed me to and heard about how our hosts had gotten into swinging.
A story (which turned out to be quite a redundant story I will hear a million more times in my life after that about “two people who were bored out of their minds sexually but had a great relationship and were looking for something fun to do together” told in a completely uninteresting way devoid of anything really notable or different than I had already heard but, (due to her current condition, it was like hearing about Alice falling down a rabbit hole so it was, at least, mildly entertaining) that was truthful and similar to what many other people would tell me that night but went on far too long. We learned a great deal more (and in more interesting ways) from other people at the party earlier and later in the evening in different and far more stimulating ways, some of which I was allowed to photograph that eventually made their way into the magazine along with my article. Everyone we talked to was proud to be into swinging. They felt they had evolved as a couple (“Evolved” seemed to be a word that showed up a lot that night.) and by doing so it had made their relationship stronger, and somehow more real.
I would discover as time went by that the Lifestyle was always in a state of constant evolution. It was always changing and re-defining itself while eliminating outmoded attitudes and ideas. More than one couple, usually the male half, made sure we understood it was the women who had all of the power in a swinging relationship. “They call the shots” etc. “There’s always some knucklehead who thinks they’re going to get into this and have women falling all over themselves to get to his dick. They usually get the picture quick and get out, usually with his disgusted wife divorcing his ass in the process!” one guy tells me laughing the whole time. I asked several people if they had any jealousy issues that may have surfaced once they got into it and to a person they all said no. “Just the opposite” Most would say citing what a turn-on it was to see their spouse with someone else. “It was like watching a very sexy play or movie” some would say. When pressed further they would say things like “How can you be jealous when it’s done together, out in the open, where you can’t sneak around or hide it?” or “If you have jealousy issues you shouldn’t be swinging. Jealousy would suggest you have a relationship or personal issue that needs to be resolved. We’re here to have fun not invite unwanted drama into our lives. We have enough of our own without adding someone else’s to it.” One person even told me that if a person is jealous it means they’re hiding something they don’t like about themselves. I thought the guy initially was full of shit but a few years later I found myself revisiting that thought after watching someone close to me implode emotionally over a jealousy issue and now find I’m inclined to believe there’s an element of truth in what that guy said back then.
Despite our initial nervousness once we got our bearings and figured out the protocol it turned out to be a fun (and life changing) night. The people there were friendly, relaxed and had a sensual/sexual magnetism about them. “Comfortable in your own skin” was a phrase used that night in a variety of ways and many nights since then. You could see they were comfortable with themselves and the other people there. The whole house seemed thick with that vibe and most everyone was all too willing to answer my questions and give us more than a few visual demonstrations of swinging etiquette and sexual technique to support that vibe.
Michelle was relaxing so much (maybe it was from the joint we just smoked…who knows) she allowed a couple to remove her peasant blouse and then let them suck on her nipples while shooting me a sheepish look.
I mouthed the words “Are you OK?” to her and she smiled a nodded back. When they undid her pants and slid their hands inside her head arched back so far I thought she was going to fall back and smash her head on the counter behind her but she managed to stay upright and began rocking slowly from side to side gasping with excitement now and then before grabbing both of them and taking turns kissing them. I was beginning to understand what many of these people had been saying all night. I must have popped off half a roll of film in less than a minute. It wasn’t the first time I had seen women kiss so passionately, I’ve seen other women I dated do that, but it was the first time I had seen Michelle do that and I wanted something to remember that moment with. I was so turned on I set my camera down and as I walked over in her direction I took my clothes off and headed like a laser to where she stood intent on burying my cock in her pussy. A few feet or so from striking distance the woman who had been playing with Michelle dropped to her knees and as she did so she turned her head to meet my cock with her mouth and let it travel all the way down her throat in one swift move until none of it was visible. I came immediately and she continued to hold me in until I had completely shot my load. I look up and see Michelle’s eyes were as big as dinner plates but not in a frightened or angry way. It was a look of complete fascination coupled from cumming herself as she was being fingered. When I finally got within reach of her she buried her tongue so deep in my mouth I thought it was going to pop out of my ass hole and lick my butt.
A short time later we were naked in the pool with about a dozen other people drinking, smoking more pot, groping and having fun.
(Another quick discovery for me that night was that fucking in a pool was not as easy as I had first thought it might be. It took years of practice to enjoy it and keep from drowning my lover and myself in the process.)
Michelle was, at one point, getting her pussy filled on the pool deck by our host. I took some great shots of them then got back in the pool and slid up alongside them. Michelle reached out and took my hand and held on for dear life so she wouldn’t bounce around so much. I kept watching her face looking for panic or fear…it wasn’t there. She looked like she was in some pleasurable trance with her eyes wide open taking everything in. It was amazing to watch them. I didn’t feel the least bit jealous, far from it. She glanced over to me at one point and I could see in her eyes she was right where she wanted to be at that moment. I felt closer to her than I had ever before. (Something we discussed at length on the way back to Phoenix) When he finally came and pulled out she looked at me and smiled while saying “I think I could get used to this!” causing us to laugh for quite a while the rest of that evening.
Michelle would, some months later, go on and get married to a man she met at another swingers party a short time after our return from Vegas. A musician with aspirations of making it big in Nashville and had the talent to make it happen. My new girlfriend and I would be part of their wedding party. They were in the Lifestyle for another ten years that I know of before moving to Nashville and I completely lost track of them.
It turned out to be one of the greatest nights of our short lives at that point (We were only nineteen when this took place). I learned a great deal more than I expected to and quickly put that new found knowledge to use once I got home.
On the trip home a light went on in my head. I suddenly understood why Henry Miller’s books disturbed me when I read them a few years earlier in school, something that would partially bother me off and on for another few years after that point. I understood the animal passion and the sexual adventure in them. I understood the natural need for variety in them (real or imagined) but what had been disturbing me was the infidelity. The affairs behind other people’s backs with people who trusted him and considered him a friend and vis a vis. The violence towards each other sexually, kinks were one thing…disregard for another person’s emotional and physical safety was quite something else. Back then that somehow seemed to be acceptable but now… Swinging today has none of that and wants none of the drama attached to it. It seemed so much more inviting and real. It felt safe and decadent at the same time. It was done openly and honestly between committed people with no secrets. I could, not only, understand that, I could embrace it and wanted to make it a part of my own life. The other part of Miller’s writing that also hung in the back of my mind was the lack of social morality that seemed to permeate through Europe and the rest of the world at that time. That too was evolving and changing for the better. It still, to this day, exists (especially in England for some odd reason albeit a little more “under the radar”) but not to the degree of past decades. Much of what he wrote about, I’m sure, was done more for shock value than anything but it still disturbed me to think society could have ever been that overtly perverse with many of their sexual activities.
Swinging, I was discovering, has their own sets of moral rules and they’re pretty hard and fast about them. Other than sexual freedom the Lifestyle would have a difficult time (if at all) supporting or emulating much of what he wrote about as acceptable rational adult behavior back then. Infidelity, rape and incest (to name a few) are not condoned under any circumstances and would cause someone to be driven from the Lifestyle quickly. I found that comforting in an odd way as I began my adventures and would encounter just what those rules were.
Swinging was a relatively new moniker at that point in time only coming into existence by that name a few years after the Korean War as it moved into the mid-sixties (Before that it was still called “Wife Swapping”…no joke) when GI’s came back determined to not only to emulate the “Party Hearty” attitude their WWII brethren had demonstrated upon their return home but also to make up for all of the lost time spent in sexual denial (If they were in denial at all) plus also determined to carry on the tradition rumored to have been started by the Army pilots of WWII who had wild “anything goes” parties with their flying buddies and their wives before a big mission and the agreement to “take care of their spouses if they didn’t come back”, a tradition that happily came back with them to the states after the war and back into civilian life. (Along with that, I would discover at one point in my life, many couples of both generations who were separated from each other during those wars had a “don’t ask, don’t tell” agreement with their spouses about what went on while they were separated).
Both concepts were something new for “regular” people. The rich and powerful historically always have had a decadent side to their social classes and many of their gatherings reflected that but the middle class was learning as they went.
Perhaps that new concept or mindset coupled with a desire to unload openly and honestly some of the unspoken emotional baggage or secrets held inside themselves tended to bring to the party a new attitude that made something happen and create new possibilities regarding sex and monogamy when they returned. Most everyone’s opinions regarding sex in the marriage was heading into new territory in a healthy way. It became evident in the way society functioned socially almost immediately. The cocktail party took on a decidedly sexual undertone during this time period and the majority of society seemed to willingly embrace it, albeit cautiously. You only had to look at the movies to see how more open the mindset was becoming as films morphed from the stodgy boring cocktail party of the 50’s to a sexy, flirty venue for passions to rise and clothes increasingly disappear as the 60’s moved through and closer to the 70’s.
Even mainstream magazines like Life and Look got into it as well. In part thanks to a couple of very vocal Yankees players who took “Wife Swapping” to a whole different level when Mike Kekich and his wife Susanne swapped lives and families with his battery buddy Fritz Peterson and his wife Marilyn in the early 70’s while playing for the Yankees. (Much to the chagrin of, at that time, the new owner of the team George Steinbrenner.) Their exploits in print started everyone to talking about swinging for a great deal of time to come.
It happened to be the same year (1973) that the Designated Hitter was introduced to the American League and got more mail and flack than the DH addition for MLB. The Bible belt was dazed and confused. They wanted everything “back to normal” and didn’t know how to make that happen. Televangelists morphed into religious politicians trying to pass laws as quickly as they could to protect US from US for our own good while they carried on “backdoor affairs” all over the place. Society, they surmised, no longer knew how to think for themselves the hypocritical televangelists decided they had to do it for us.
Kekich and Marylin fizzled quickly but Fritz (now a minister) and Susanne eventually married and is still married to this day.
The difference between the two groups of soldiers from those two wars was when the Korean vets came home they had a roadmap, a bible for all of that decadence to follow, because while they were gone, a skinny guy in an apartment in Chicago armed with a card table, typewriter and a pipe had produced a magazine to show them how to get the most out of the upcoming “Swinging Sixties”. The man was Hugh Hefner and the magazine, of course, was Playboy and Hef loved Swingers and their hedonistic “Rat Pack Cool” sophisticated attitude at that time and the changes they’d go through so he’s kept them under the microscope for more than fifty years now.
The Swingers, in turn, loved Hef and emulated everything he did that they hadn’t thought of already.
(I have no doubt every swinger in the country probably had a key to the nearest Playboy Club during its heyday. I had a key for about ten years before the clubs started slowly disappearing.)
The “Summer of Love” was fast approaching and swingers, with their highly charged approach to life fit right in with the counter-culture’s wide open sexuality so with just a few adjustments and some blending on both sides there was always much to write about, such as Bacchanalian Orgies one month, Love-ins the next.
Hef’s parties have always been legendary and everyone wanted to be at his or at least have parties just like his so we all flocked to the news stand each month to find out the latest and greatest “must do” party info. It wasn’t long that “A”. “B” and “C” Guest lists began to appear in the suburbs and now have found their way into Internet events along with “VIP” sections (bogus and overly expensive…if you have to pay to get in you’re not a VIP, just a bonehead who likes to blow money). (Today we flock to the Internet and register for Hef’s (they’re not as always as “VIP” as they used to be) and other parties or pull information for our own.)
One (Or several) of his issues mentioned “Key Parties” with a basic guide on how to have one. The next thing people knew…everyone who was anyone was having a key party…even my parents. I found myself with a ringside seat to “sexual enlightenment” just as I was hitting puberty back then. (As an FYI: Key Parties were where the men would, when they got there, deposit their car keys into a bowl and then the women (sometimes blindfolded, sometimes not) would take a set of keys out of the bowl and whomever the owner of the keys was would be her play partner to start the evening off with.)
By the mid to late Sixties everyone wanted to be part of the Sexual Revolution and dozens of magazines began to appear trying to get their piece of the pie Playboy and other magazines like Mr. had created with some of them having a “Personals” section you could post an ad in and along with that came “Swingers Magazines”.
The Lifestyle was making a serious leap forward in numbers and swingers were looking for ways to meet like minded people besides the chance invitation to house parties. (A survey was done in the mid-seventies that suggested Swinging had increased to just a little over two million participants nationwide at that point.)
After a little trial and error regional magazines started to appear in adult bookstores and newsstands with titles like Midwest Swingers, California Swingers, and Switch Hitters etc. All of them formatted pretty much the same way. There would be one photo (sometimes two) in black and white (and so grainy you couldn’t make out much) about half the size of a postage stamp, a quick profile blurb and a short line for what you were looking for then a PO Box. The whole thing was about ½ inch by 1 inch.
This became THE way to make contact with other swingers and remained so for nearly twenty years until the Internet appeared in everyone’s home.
The first thing I did when I got back home to Phoenix after that first house party in Las Vegas was get a PO Box (box 37035 would be my mailing address until some time in the mid nineties). During that brief trial and error period the swingers magazines went through at the beginning they quickly discovered putting your phone number or real address in an ad was asking for every nut case out there to be showing up at your doorstep or calling at all hours of the day and night. Because of that I’m guessing half of all the PO Boxes rented back then were to swingers.
Once you obtained your PO Box you would then search the ads in those swingers magazines and/or whatever local newspapers for swingers that were around then and would find the people that interested you, take a couple of Polaroid pictures of the two of you (preferably together), write them a note telling about yourselves and why you’re interested in them then mail it all to their PO Box.
It generally took about a week to get a response (if at all). After two or three mail exchanges (which would include a phone number at some point) you would then meet in a neutral place for drinks before finally meeting to play. All said and done it would generally take you from one to two months to actually do anything with that couple. In the meantime you still had the parties to enjoy…if you were already in the lifestyle and on the invite list. If you weren’t and just getting started you probably didn’t have much going on until you’d met a few people and they could vouch for you.
At the parties there were always oceans of alcohol, piles of recreational drugs, munchies ranging from gourmet goodies to typical party fare (I’ve eaten more than my fair share of cocktail weenies and chips and dips in my life…thank God that part of my gastronomic life is over) along with hot, horny people (usually naked) ready to play at the drop of a hat.
The sexual revolution had everyone experimenting with their sexuality at that point. Bisexuality was popular with both sexes along with every fetish/ fantasy one can imagine. Anything sexual and possibly fun that had been discreetly hidden away in the closet was now out there for the whole world to see and do.
Every party I attended until the late eighties had that basic recipe. About the time the mid-eighties came along the “recreational” drugs started disappearing and was being replaced by bowls of condoms everywhere as people started having informal “interviews” before they would agree to play with someone to discover health history more than compatibility. AIDS had hit the front page and everyone was talking about it and taking it very seriously.
Entertainment, fashion and artistic icons were dropping like flies. Male bisexuality suddenly took on a negative connotation at that time and went underground for those men who were. They would be branded a health risk to the Lifestyle when people started dropping like flies due to HIV / AIDS and many men I knew that were bi either withdrew completely from swinging or denied they were bi from that point on. It’s only been since after the turn of the new century that I’ve seen bi men begin to re-surface but they still seem to be getting negative responses from the Lifestyle. Forums on any swing site have countless postings about the subject and rarely are they anything more that a platform to bash someone’s sexuality. Women, on the other hand…it’s almost always assumed (and expected) that they are bi and the straight women get the odd looks, go figure.
Not long after my first trip to Las Vegas I was invited to a house party. I didn’t know the host but I was told, by a newly minted Lifestyle friend, he was someone to know and I should make a point to talk to him. In less than five minutes of my getting there and meeting him he began to tell me of a new concept he was going to launch for swingers while a cute brunette sitting on the couch across the room began swinging her legs out and in to show me her lack of panties with a sexy little “come hither” look on her face while he talked. “Let me tell ya Doc. I think you’ll like this…” was his opening. He was going to open a “Swingers Club”, a nightclub where people could mix, mingle and play all in the same place with “Play rooms” that had beds, an indoor spa, Dj’s, dancing, drinking and more then went on to tell when, where, and how it was going to happen. It was pretty revolutionary thinking since swing clubs in the US didn’t exist at that point. Europe had already created some very upscale places like that for some time but the puritanical good ol’ US was still something of a sexual backwater. (It was a very surreal night. Not only did I have my first FFM three-way with that brunette and my girlfriend later but here I was standing in this room hearing all of this with the Doobie Brothers pounding through speaker towers the size of two refrigerators while an elderly couple, (who looked for all the world like Ma & Pa Kettle) sat half dressed on a couch across from me reading a stack of swingers magazines from the coffee table)
True to his word about a month or so later my host that night opened up the first swingers club in the country (depending on who’s dates you believe…his or a club in Florida, both opened within days of each other) More would quickly follow in New York and LA. So would other concepts appear like “Swingers Bars” with catchy names like “The Inferno” where there were phones at each booth so you could call the couple across the room you thought was hot and strike up a conversation before physically saying “hello” much like they had done for years in The Stork Club in New York and other upscale places around the country. Along with that were nightclubs that were touted as “Off Premise” swing clubs where you could flirt and discreetly tease and play but you had to go someplace else to fuck. None of that lasted long, largely due to our inability to control our libidos in public…especially while drinking. Alcohol is historically great for causing people to lose their inhibitions and their clothes at all the wrong times.
One night my wife and I went to one such upscale nightclub frequented by swingers and vanilla people alike to hear a band we knew and dance with several of our Lifestyle friends. As the evening progressed our group grew to about twenty couples. The women were all dressed in their hottest club clothes and all seemed in an extremely flirty mood. When the girls hit the dance floor they would get looser and looser exposing tits and pussies to the appreciative crowd. The kissing and groping increased with each drink but managed to stay within acceptable levels of decorum (and state liquor laws). But…
It wasn’t long before I look up to see three couples at a tall table just off of the dance floor near the band. One of the women, a young thin blonde, was sitting on a stool leaning against the painted black wall. Her short skirt was pulled up to her belly with her legs spread wide while one of the other women was fist fucking her pussy in full view of everyone. Her thrusting was getting faster and faster to the point the blonde’s head was bouncing loudly off the wall almost to the beat of the music causing her hair to poof out brightly against the dark wall. The band nearly forgot what they were doing trying to keep an eye on the action plus what they were playing and almost all of the people on the dance floor had stopped dancing. They were all mesmerized by the show these women were putting on in public. The security people just looked at each other with perplexed faces trying to figure out what to do. One of them kept looking at me like I should do something (like I had any control over the situation…I didn’t know who they were anyways). The problem was…I had no idea what to do either.
A few minutes later, just as the women were trading places, we were all asked to take our party someplace else by security citing not wanting to lose their liquor license over things like that (an understandable dilemma). Those couples took their party elsewhere.
It seemed to take no time at all for incidents like that to happen a little too quickly and often in many places thus causing the swinger’s bar/nightclub concept to close as fast as they opened because of law or ordinance violations and partly due because it just was not a great idea to begin with, the new found euphoria of becoming a swinger causes many people to take leave of their common sense and ability to take responsibility for their own actions in public but the swing clubs continued to grow.
It wasn’t until the mid to late nineties the swing clubs started to come apart because they were starting to thrive a little too well. They got bigger and more visible which made some people nervous causing cities across the country to start trying to shut them down as favors to noisy right wing contributors (remember those pesky televangelists from the seventies?) with deep pockets for a variety of reasons…many of which we swingers brought on ourselves. (Much like the nightclub and bar concepts before we still have difficulty behaving ourselves and following rules in and out of public.)
Up until the beginning of the 1990’s swinging had pretty much plodded along as they had since the seventies (Except for that ill-fated decade…the eighties. Besides AIDS entering in like a steamroller and drove the Lifestyle to the sidelines for a while, swingers took leave of their senses fashion wise. The Disco era had rolled out of the late seventies and into the eighties with a vengeance. Quiana shirts, gold chains and Angelflight Suits for the guys and anything animal print for the girls drove many of us into fashion therapy back then).
It kept to magazines, PO Boxes, house parties and/or a small secluded club and such staying well under the radar back then. Everything was discreet and you had to be intentionally looking for those resources and places to find them. You just couldn’t stumble onto them. But the Internet had been taking hold with things like Adult bulletin boards, chat rooms and the early types of web pages that weren’t nearly as secure (if at all) as they are today and were beginning to draw tons of people plus some curiosity seekers who would cause trouble for swingers in a few short years. Swing clubs started getting bigger to accommodate the growing numbers and began to look more prominent and a little less discreet.
It was becoming easier and faster to meet more people on the Internet so magazines and PO Boxes were beginning to be used less and less. The discretion was evaporating rapidly due to that too. Rather than take a little time to get to know someone you could go to a swing club meet someone and fifteen minutes later (or less) fuck them in a somewhat public environment that may, or may not, be viewed by anyone in the building. It wasn’t too far into the nineties that swingers found themselves confronted at work, school, and church by people who had “accidentally found” their ad or home page online, or had seen them at a swing club causing some people to get “outed”, lose their jobs, security clearances, get sexually harassed by co-workers who wrongfully assumed that since they were swingers they’d fuck anyone, anytime, anywhere and other crap like that.
Swing sites had suddenly exploded in much the same way the magazines had done in the sixties and seventies…only at a faster rate. (I must get at least two invitations to join a new site every week, all promising to be the latest and greatest.) Because of all of this there are probably twenty times the potential swingers out there than when I jumped in back in 1973. Most are “lookieloo’s” or “Poser’s” (people who want to associate and act like swinger’s but don’t actually want to participate, in many cases even looking down their noses at us in the process). Even at that…the number of actual swingers these days is staggering.
With all of that growth the Lifestyle couldn’t help but draw attention to itself and with religious leaders fearing we were all headed towards Sodom and Gomorra II and loss of their control they pressed the cities to reel us all in.
Swingers are historically horrible at organizing any type of political action group. Claiming anything from fear of reprisal, family members finding out they’re swingers, damage to their social prominence and more we never can hold together long enough to make an impact. We’re loud and in your face as long as everything is going our way but as soon as something doesn’t, we behave like roaches in the kitchen when the lights turned on…we scramble for cover and it’s everyone for themselves.
So clubs began closing, an unfortunate situation that is still happening today and probably will for some time to come. The long standing phrase “You can’t fight City Hall” has a depressingly fatal ring of truth to it with regards to the Lifestyle and their ability to enact change to either get back some or all of what they’ve already lost or to evolve into some other situation that would provide safe havens for swingers to do what they do so well.
For now we’re back to modified versions of the house parties of old mixed in with hotel parties (which can be dangerous as some have already found out) and “special” events (I have yet to figure out what makes them so damned special except the exorbitant prices and the equally exorbitant egos of the attendees) .
Probably every site on the Internet has at least one resort takeover and perhaps even one “Convention” each year all designed around the members of that specific site. Is this a bad thing? Yes and no. The Lifestyle has, expanded so much you couldn’t possibly make everyone happy at one event, nor could you find a place big enough to house all of us or deal with all of the fractionalized tastes and requirements everyone seems to have these days. Even with the hotels being as big and plentiful as they are in Vegas these days no one is capable (or willing) to accommodate them all. Not to mention constantly having to deal with “line of sight” issues regarding nudity and the casinos with the Nevada Gaming Commission. That’s a large part of why the original Lifestyle Convention recently went bankrupt and folded after nearly forty years in L.A. then Reno and then Vegas. One would go nuts trying to find the group (or groups) that fit into your personal preferences and by the time you did find them you’d either be too tired to play or the event would be over.
Unfortunately it has also created an “Us or Them” mentality with the sites trash talking each other and the original Lifestyle Convention group to get as many people as possible to their events as well.
Closing the clubs has driven the Lifestyle further out into the public eye (which the cities hadn’t planned for and now, in some ways, regret the path they have started down) and creates most or all of the potential problems swingers have always tried to avoid. Many now have found themselves re-thinking everything they do or want to do in the Lifestyle and weighing in with how much collateral damage might happen to them if something blows up publicly and exposes them. As I mentioned earlier, hotel parties can be a crap shoot. Even if you secure an entire floor of rooms there’s nothing preventing a whole soccer team of twelve year olds and their parents from getting off on the wrong floor and making the news the next day (It’s happened…and worse). I guarantee you that undercover police are at every public or semi –public event the Lifestyle puts on these days looking for anything they can find to justify spending all of the money they spend to protect us…from us. So do you go or don’t you?
There has been much talk the past couple of years of purchasing an entire hotel and making it Lifestyle friendly and “Adults Only” to avoid such things in the future. It’s happened in other countries but, it doesn’t look like that will happen here in the US any time soon…if ever.
There are far more deep pockets in the Lifestyle than most any other group out there with the possible exception of the gay and lesbian community. The problem, as I said earlier, is they lack the organizational clout politically to do anything with it and too many fear getting burned publicly and losing their income stream.
So where does the Lifestyle go from here? I have no idea. It’s been around as far back as recorded history can take us. It’s too big to just disappear now and I suspect it’s going to get bigger and more complicated before a workable solution is found. The Lifestyle today, although still fun, bears only a vague similarity to the lifestyle I became part of thirty plus years ago. I can only imagine what it will be like in another decade or two.
In spite of all of this I can’t imagine not being a part of it. I have very few “Vanilla” friends but countless “Friends with Benefits” I wouldn’t trade for anything even if I could. To the point that when Lynn and I got married we had to have two receptions one for family and the few vanilla friends we still had (have) and then one for our Lifestyle friends. There were far more at the second party than the first which lasted until dinner time the next night…but that’s a story for later.
BACK TO RACHEL
“Right at the moment let’s have some fun with this and turn the tables a little and spend a moment or two seeing if you should give this a try or not.” I say to Rachel bringing us back to the original topic and question.
“I suspect that’s the real reason you wanted to do this interview. (She looks timid but says nothing). If we all discover you should…the rest will quickly fall into place before you know it and this interview will fall quicker, easier and less intimidating for you.” I say to Rachel while glancing at Lynn who has an amused but skeptical look on her face at this point.
“Certain things, you will discover, require Lynn or I to repeat them throughout this conversation because I guarantee you there are a number of people reading all of this, or something like it, later (hopefully not you) that either think they already have the answers and will skip ahead of things and miss some important rules/guidelines that will make the whole experience a lot more interesting and less daunting.. Or they’ll feel that none of this stuff applies to them because they’re special and above it all. Well…they may be special but riding the short bus of overblown egos doesn’t make you bulletproof or exempt from anything in any way, shape or form. In fact it will only succeed in identifying your shortcomings socially (physically, and possibly life in general) quickly and send you and your arrogant ego back outside looking in to the lifestyle you’re trying so hard to become involved in.” Rachel looks a little shocked, and possibly insulted, but says nothing as she adjusts herself on the couch and takes another sip of her wine.
“Now that we’ve issued “The Warning”…let’s get to it.”
“Let’s start with the guys.”
“Why?” Rachel asks.
“Because they need the most help I’m sorry to say. (Both girls laugh out loud and look at each other in mock agreement as I say this) The vast majority of men have a fantasy idea of what swinging is and have had this image in their heads of what they’re in for going back as long or longer than we’ve had civilized people on this planet. So let’s do everyone a favor and cut to the chase to save all of them some time.
Men have this belief that if they get into swinging they’re guaranteed to get constantly laid by every woman they meet. Not only that, they won’t have to exert much effort to make that happen. They’ll just have to show up, look cool and waive their dick around while the women line up to get their turn.” I start off with as Lynn chimes in with “Sad but true dear.”
“I didn’t know you two knew my last boyfriend?!” Rachel quips between giggles and sips of her wine.
Her body shakes with laughter and throws her slightly off balance causing her legs to fall apart for a moment to reveal that all she’s wearing is the skirt from her waist down and revealing a lovely shaved twat already shining with wetness. The quick view was just enough time to catch Lynn’s notice as well causing her to turn slightly in my direction and give me a sly wink while Rachel remained unaware about what she had just revealed to us.
MYTH NUMBER ONE REBUKED: Nothing could be further from the truth about a man’s place in this lifestyle. THE GUYS ARE NOT IN CHARGE. I’m sorry to say this and burst your bubble so soon but that’s the way it is. Treating a woman as something brainless and easily impressed is not a good way to start off either.
“First off, the women in this Lifestyle are not whores.” I begin with again before launching into “If they’re with people they like and trust they might act that way from time to time but, more often than not, they are classy, intelligent, sexy people who do not take kindly to being treated as whores.”
“Oh my God, I had never imagined for a moment that someone would or could treat me or any other woman like that!” Rachel gasps while accepting another glass of wine.
Lynn pops in with “You’d be surprised. Fortunately it doesn’t happen very often but it can and does at some of the most unexpected times.
When Doc was first introducing me to all of this we had met a couple online that seemed interesting so we all agreed to meet for drinks and see how things went. Doc and I talked beforehand about what I should expect and what could possibly happen with regards to playing with them that night. He left that call up to me so if I was comfortable with them we could take things further, if not, we’d leave things for another night, if ever.
We met them at a little neighborhood bar not too far from our house that was not too noisy. They were lovely people and came as advertised. Attractive, smart, social and fun to talk to, she was a doll and I liked her almost immediately. The more he drank, however, the fuller of himself he became which I chalked up to nerves and didn’t think much about it. By the second or third drink the conversation was getting more sexual and the more insistent he was getting to take our conversation someplace a little more private. I can’t tell when or how during our conversation I agreed and invited them back to our place…but I did. (This solicited an apprehensive little giggle from Rachel.)
We hadn’t been home for more than a few minutes when he pulled me into his lap on the couch and began to kiss me and grope me, which was actually feeling pretty good at that point. I reached between my legs and found his fly and unzipped it. Inside was this enormous semi-hard cock that I began to stroke while we kissed. Without saying a word he stood me up, removed his pants and underwear and made me kneel in front of him to suck him off. (Rachel has fallen silent at this point. Her mouth hangs slightly open and her eyes are wide and fixated on Lynn and her every word)
Doc and the man’s wife have pretty much removed all of their clothes at this point and are sitting on the couch next to us kissing and fondling each other and are oblivious to what we’re doing. In fact Doc’s hand was so far up the woman’s twat you couldn’t see it and she was riding his hand for all it was worth.
As I get this guys cock in my mouth he starts trying to force my head down further onto his shaft and take more of him in my mouth which was damned near impossible to do and he got a little frustrated with me. Out of nowhere He mumbles “Where’s the bedroom?” so I get up, get Doc’s attention and signal for us all to go to the bedroom.
In the time it took Doc and the other woman to get in there and on the bed he had already climbed on top of me and was literally jamming every inch of that tree trunk into my pussy as hard and as fast as he could. I could catch out of the corner of my eye this guy’s wife arching her back passionately as Doc slid slowly inside her while this guy just kept pounding away inside me. It was an exciting sight to be sure but the pounding I was taking made me feel a little violated and somewhat sympathetic to her everyday situation with this Bozo.
Suddenly this guy makes a couple of grunting noises, pulls out of me and cums all over my stomach. He climbs off of me and the bed in one movement and heads to the bathroom. While he’s in there I turn my attention to Doc and his playmate and start kissing her and nibbling on her nipples. None of us notice “Elephant Man” come out of the bathroom but I’m suddenly aware he’s back in the room so I look behind me to see if he’s ready for more. Instead I see the guy is already almost completely dressed! He walks over to me and gives me a kiss and says “It was great.” While he does that he reaches over and pats his wife on the leg (who’s still being fucked by Doc) and says “We’ve got to go.” With that she stops mid-hump, crawls out from under Doc with an apologetic look on her face, collects her clothes and gets dressed with him not saying a word to anyone the whole time. They make a polite but quick good-bye and are out the door with me feeling more than violated! I felt like he should at least have left cash on the dresser like he must do with the other women he fucks!” Lynn makes this last statement laughing at the absurdity of how the whole thing still feels to her. Rachel just sits there with her hand over her, now completely wide, mouth and shakes her head side to side.
“What a jerk!” Rachel finally says, “Did you ever see them again?”
“Yes we did…unfortunately…several times. They came to a couple of parties we had and stopped over to a couple of events we hosted. Each time we came away with the feeling of “Loved her, hated him” so we stopped inviting them.”
“While we’re talking about dicks” I begin with trying to move our talk along “every man has a dick and, in spite of the fact most men are impressed with theirs and they think they’ve got something special down there trust me they don’t.” with that the shock of the last few moments is gone and good natured laughter fills the room again.
“If they did they’d be making a mint in the porn industry.” I continue.
“Who are these guys and where do I meet them?” Rachel laughs back at me.
“Get in line behind me sweetie!” Lynn adds in before I move on.
“The awful truth is very few men know how to properly use their equipment regardless of size (to which I get a collective “Uh-Huh” from both of them as they high five each other) and, believe me; swingers can tell if a man does or doesn’t have the skill sets by their appearance and behavior.”
“Really?” comes from Rachel
“Oh yeah, the last thing a woman in this lifestyle wants is another notch on her bedpost from another bad fuck. They’re into quality, not quantity. A poor lover is something they’re likely to pass on pretty much all of the time.” Is Lynn’s quick response while smiling and lightly patting Rachel’s thigh.
“If you’re a single man…you’re a dime a dozen (if you haven’t figured that out by now). Right or wrong they already have two strikes against them in this lifestyle. Their very presence at an event telegraphs to the world by their solitude, actions and how they present themselves that they have very limited social and sexual skills. Otherwise they’d probably be in a relationship. There are exceptions to that, of course, but the exceptions are very rare indeed.” I say this with no hint of objection from either woman.
“Where do single men make their biggest mistakes?” Rachel asks after a long pause.
“Generally they make the same handful of little mistakes most men make and one or two big ones like not dressing up for an event and being too aggressive physically and verbally right from the get-go.”
“And the little stuff?”
“Things like having no manners or the ability to have a conversation with people that either jumps immediately into sexual aggressiveness or that doesn’t center on their job, how great and important they are, family and so on that doesn’t include an expletive or arrogant statement every other word. Behaving and/or eating like an animal is, unfortunately, gaining ground in that area lately as well.”
“Ah…I see.” Rachel says as she makes another note on her notepad.
The music and the wine are relaxing her now.
While she’s paying more attention to her notes than me I take the opportunity to get a good look at her. She’s really quite attractive. Dark brown hair with blond streaks in it, I’m guessing she’s in her late twenties or early thirties. She has an athlete’s body, possibly a runner (which I know Lynn finds appealing. Lynn has a passion for athletic types and especially for volleyball players…female volleyball players that is), she can’t be any taller than five and a half feet tall and seems to be very polished in her appearance. She looks like a lot of fun in many ways.
Society in general is losing its way about social skills these days; unfortunately, single men seem to be leading that parade. Along the same line, up until very recently for some, men have forgotten how to dress. A man’s wardrobe has been reduced to, other than perhaps work attire, a few well used casual clothes that are worn regardless of the occasion and can’t understand why no one will talk to them or take them seriously. Those two issues are working against you the moment you walk into a lifestyle situation whether you realize it or not. Always put your best foot forward sartorially.
Before we go any further and since we’re on the subject…let’s discuss wardrobe for a moment. This is the first (and possibly the most important) piece of advice I can give you (if you’re a male and reading this…for that matter female as well).
You don’t have to go out and spend a fortune on clothes in order to gain acceptance in this lifestyle. I know many wealthy men who are little more than assholes in expensive clothes but think all the overpriced designer dud’s they wear makes a difference. Buy what you can afford, but make sure it fits well and DON’T buy it just because it’s on sale or considered currently in style. Be yourself. If you’re a geek you’ll only ending up looking like a geek trying to be a sloppy runway model or something as equally unpleasant otherwise. You won’t fool anyone. Along with that ALWAYS KEEP THEM CLEAN AND IRONED. Most of your clothes may be casual but always have some dressier stuff too that can possibly be mixed and matched with the casual stuff and even consider a sports coat or suit. Even Target and WalMart has them cheaply these days, for those of you with very limited budgets, so there’s no reason not to have one or both. If you can afford it always get your clothes tailored. It’s not that expensive and it makes a world of difference that can help your appearance. You’ll always look sharp…not frumpy. There’s nothing worse than having sleeves too long and/or pants too long, short or baggy. People will look at your clothes for all of the wrong reasons and possibly consider you a social moron if you don’t.
By being a single male (as you may have guessed by everything that has preceded this) it’s not likely you’re going to get many invitations to private parties so don’t ask. If they want you there they’ll invite you assuming you succeeded in impressing them. The same should be said for many private events and what few swing clubs that still exist these days (more on that as we go) so you will probably be limited to what nights you can attend and probably pay a premium to do so. While we’re on that subject guys…Swinger’s Clubs are seldom (if ever) 24/7 operations. We all have normal lives to lead that have nothing to do with this or any other sexually related subject. Calling a club at noon because you’re horny only shows how clueless and desperate you are… not to mention you can’t read.
If a “Club” advertises that they allow you to attend every night chances are they’re not really a swinger’s club and you’ll discover this only after paying a ridiculous amount of money to get in. You’ll find the only people there is you and the two hundred other guys with the same idea and link to that Internet site all sitting there playing with themselves or cruising the hallways while waiting for something to happen. So think twice about it if you want to be considered real by the rest of us.
Be smart, be polite, don’t assume you’re going to get anywhere and dress to impress. You might get a lot further than you imagine without getting your face slapped or thrown out.
“NOW…Let’s talk about the MARRIED guys for a while…” I say as Rachel pops back up to attention with that statement.
“I’ve discovered most married men have an interest in giving swinging a try for several different reasons. The older a man gets his thoughts drift in that direction for so many reasons it’s amazing they can remember to tie their shoes from getting so preoccupied.” A subject I know all too well these days.
“Even at that it’s not always, if ever, because things aren’t going smoothly at home. Many men (I like to call the top third) are happy and in love with their wife, girlfriend…whatever, but they’ve hit this point where the sex has become pretty pedestrian and far from fulfilling. They have the utmost trust in each other and are so in tune with each other that “straying” or jealousy has never crossed their mind or been an issue in their relationship before or now. They may have fantasized about some intimate moment with another woman they may or may not know but had no intention of doing so behind their spouses back.
They’ve probably gone so far as to mention a swinging scenario to their significant other (in a non-threatening or accusatory manner…hint, hint and NOT WHILE HAVING SEX) and to his surprise she’s been bouncing that idea around in her head as well.”
“Really?!” Rachel asks somewhat surprised.
“Women think about sex every bit as much as men these days Rachel.” Lynn laughs.
“I guess that’s true…I know I do…a lot!” Rachel sheepishly confesses.
“After many discussions on the subject along with fantasies they might want to fulfill and things they absolutely don’t want to do they agree to take their first baby steps toward swinging to see if it’s really for them.” I continue on
“It should be noted that EVERYONE takes baby steps when they first start out. Only an idiot would expect to jump in with both feet the moment they walk in the door of a lifestyle situation. Expect to take things slow and the momentum will build along with your comfort and trust levels.” I finish with.
“So people don’t just walk into a swinger’s party the first time, take their clothes off and start fucking everyone in sight?” She asks.
After Lynn and I stop laughing we give her a collective “No” before moving on.
“That’s actually kind of a relief.” Rachel responds back.
“You mentioned discussing fantasies. How “all inclusive” should that be?” comes her next question.
“If you’re smart, you should be as open and honest as you can possibly be on both sides of the scale.” I say to her.
“What do you mean?”
“Not only discuss what you’ve always thought about doing but also discuss what you absolutely DO NOT want to do or consider. There’s nothing worse than discovering at the wrong time that something you’d like to do or try is something your partner has issues with and vice a versa.”
“I hadn’t thought about that before.” Was her only response for the moment.
“So how does the subject of bisexuality enter into the conversation at this point?” Rachel asks looking back and forth at Lynn and me.
“That really depends on the people having the conversation I would imagine, but it should still come as early on as possible to avoid confusing agendas right from the start. For Lynn and me it was something that was probably approached differently than other people might have.” I say to her while looking at Lynn.
“How so?” comes her quick question.
“Lynn’s always been bi so it was a normal part of our conversation before we actually got too involved with each other and were just friends. In fact it probably dominated our conversations initially.” I say as I gesture towards Lynn.
“Really…you’ve always been bi?” Rachel asks leaning in towards Lynn trying to read her face. “When did you first know this?”
“Yep, I’ve always been attracted by the person not necessarily the gender my whole life.” came Lynn’s answer with a smile on her face as she rolled right in to… “I had always felt “different” while I was growing up but didn’t fully come to terms with my sexuality until after two failed marriages to men when I met and I fell in love with a woman whom I had a long term exclusive relationship with for several years.”
“Long term, exclusive … you mean like a marriage?” was Rachel’s next question.
“Yep but legally we couldn’t get married like many people can these days.”
“Oh, got it.”
Rachel is riveted to Lynn’s every word again and asks as matter-of-factly as possible “So what happened?”
“Lesbian relationships, as is with most any gay relationships, tend to be filled with a lot of unwanted drama, I don’t know why that is but it seems to be that way more often than not and after a while it wears a person down. So ours fizzled and I found myself single again and unsure of what I wanted to do next. Doc and I had been good friends for many years and I spent a lot of time talking to him about relationships. Even though the sex is amazing with another woman (which got another “Really?!” from Rachel) I wasn’t sure I wanted to go that direction again just yet. I love men too but haven’t had any better luck with them than women but certainly didn’t want to rule that possibility out either.
One day, after we started dating and had several more discussions and scenarios had been presented, Doc introduced me to this lifestyle and for the first time in my life felt I was in the right place and the right life. I can be myself in this lifestyle and I’m surrounded by people who are more like me than the “vanilla world” (which gets a chuckle from Rachel) so I don’t have any feelings of being “different” anymore and couldn’t be happier.” Lynn ends.
“So why is sex with a woman so “amazing”?” Rachel asks a little too quickly to make it sound casual which causes Lynn and I both to start laughing again.
“I take it you’ve never had sex with a woman before?” Lynn asks smiling at Rachel. Rachel just shakes her head no, looking a little embarrassed in the process. “Just a little kissing and petting a couple of times with a girlfriend of mine.” is all she finally says.
“A “newbie” Lynn laughs as she looks at me “Do I get a set of steak knives or a toaster oven for telling her about this?” she chuckles.
“It’s hard to explain” Lynn continues “It’s somehow more intimate and tactile. You make love differently to a woman than a man because you’re behaving like a woman and responding to your lover the way another woman would want you to react and feel. With a man the dynamic is different largely because a man responds differently and has body parts that require different stimulation and a woman isn’t necessarily as familiar with those things physically and emotionally normally. I know what trips my trigger and so I have a better idea of what might trip hers. Interestingly enough it may be something a man wouldn’t think of. (There was a long pause while Lynn tried to gauge Rachel’s reaction) It’s easier to show someone than tell them about it.”
“Oh” is all Rachel can blankly respond with before taking another sip of her wine. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of Lynn but the look on her face has taken her far from where she’s sitting right now. Maybe it’s the wine, the music or both. Some thought or fantasy seems to be racing through her head and she’s trying desperately to wrap her brain around it. Lynn notices this too and, without saying a word leans forward and kisses her in a very long passionate kiss before asking her “Where are you?” while smiling at her.
Rachel just smiles and kisses Lynn back.
Lynn looks over in my direction as she stands up and helps Rachel to her feet. “We’re going to take a little break for a few. See you in a bit.” then she leads Rachel down the hall to the bedroom. “Show and Tell” is about to begin and I’m smart enough to know I won’t be needed in a supporting role so I retreat to my office for a while as I turn up the music so that it will float into the room for them.
A short while later I hear unfamiliar moans that must belong to Rachel. I stick my head in the door and through the dimness reflected by the candles Lynn had lit I can see Lynn straddling Rachel’s muscular leg while making long slow slides of he own leg against Rachel’s pussy much in the same motion a man makes when he’s fucking a woman. With each stroke Rachel is falling further and further into an intense orgasm. Her breathing is quiet but heavy and her fingers are buried in Lynn’s hair. There’s a slight tremor building in her legs. It won’t be much longer before she explodes. The sweat on her skin is already glowing in the candlelight. Their bodies look perfect together as their shadows dance with the candlelight across the room and ceiling. In fact their bodies just look perfect period. I retreat quietly so that I don’t disturb the magic for them and head to my office and a drink. It’s going to be a good hour or so before I’m likely to see them again so I go back to my office/studio and do a little work to pass the time.
I eventually hear the girls stirring in the bedroom and make my way back to the living room ahead of them.
A short time later the girls return to the living room naked for a drink, cool down and to continue our conversation. The first thing Rachel does is come over to where I’m sitting , gives me a kiss while undoing and removing my pants and begins to stroke my cock. Once I’m sufficiently hard enough she climbs onto my cock and guides it deep into her, still very wet, pussy. I bring her closer and suck on her nipples as she increases her motions up and down on my shaft. She grips the back of my chair harder as she pounds down on my cock and takes every inch of it as deep as she can get it. It isn’t long before I feel everything building to explosion points inside me. Rachel must have sensed it as well because she tightened her grip on my cock with her pussy at just the right time and I shoot everything deep inside her. She sits on top of me for a moment before sliding off and retreating to the bathroom. I look at Lynn sitting across from me on the other couch with a satisfied grin on her face. We say nothing but the looks between us tell us both that life is good and everyone got what they wanted.
Rachel returns to the room and resumes her place on the couch near Lynn and picks up her glass of wine and notepad while giving us both a very happy smile.
“Where were we?” Rachel asks with a giant smile on her face.
“Married men…I think.” I say grinning at both of these naked women.
“Oh yeah” Is all she said before I start back in.
“We had been talking about what I call the “Top Third”. Those are the ones who have their shit together and will probably be in and enjoy this lifestyle for as long as they choose to be in it.”
“What do you mean? “Choose” Haven’t they already done that?” Rachel asks while reaching for her wine.
“You’ll find people come and go in this lifestyle on a pretty regular basis. Some will be in it for a short time, some a lifetime. Everyone will have their reasons that are not necessarily negative if they ever are negative. Think of it as joining a bowling league but you don’t get the monogrammed shirts. (Rachel almost spits her wine out with that one from laughing.) You may discover that after a while it just isn’t as fun as it used to be going to the bowling alley anymore so you stop…maybe for just a while, maybe you never go back.”
“Now I get it.” She grins at me as she takes another sip.
“Now here comes the next group who could possibly make an early exit from the party.
These are the guys in the middle third.
Things aren’t so great at home. There’s unspoken tension between the two of them. Their sex life sucks and to make matters worse in that area she’s stopped sucking him off entirely. They still feel they care about each other but their life is beyond dull and anytime a suggestion is made by either of them it’s usually met with indifference, passive aggressive hostility or out and out verbal battle declaring how hurt they were due to what and how whatever it was had been presented. They have been to, considered or are going to marriage counseling but that avenue isn’t making any headway yet but might if they stick it out.
“Sounds like my parents when I was growing up. Although I have no idea about what discussions, if any, they had about sex and I’m not sure I want to know. For that matter I’m not sure I even want to think about that…TMI!” Rachel blurts out with a comical shudder that we all laugh about before continuing.
“One night (out of selfish reasons on both of their parts) the topic of swinging comes up, probably again for the twentieth time. They don’t know why it makes sense tonight when it didn’t before and rationalize to themselves that this could be what they need to spark their relationship. In his mind he’s convinced he’s going to fuck a million women who think he’s the hottest man on the planet and he’s going to do it with her OK and not have to pay a hooker for what little sex he may already be getting without her knowing.
“That in no way shape or form sounds like my Dad!” Rachel interjects with another laugh.
“The wife/girlfriend…you know, is just looking forward to getting laid by someone who makes her feel special again. She’s thinking to herself in the back of her mind “Who knows I might luck out and finally meet Mr. Right in the process”.
What neither factor in to all of this is they actually care about each other. They haven’t fully weighed all of the issues that come with this lifestyle. Sooner or later they’ll come face to face with Jealousy and not be prepared for it because it never occurred to them to consider it or talk about it honestly. It may rear its head at the most inopportune time and destroy them both before they even realize what had just happened. Bottom line…they’re 50/50 to survive this experience and we Lifestyler’s see them coming. We’ll probably give you lots of space to begin with until we get a read on how you’re doing with all of this before getting to chummy with you. Some predatory couples who have already jumped into this that have similar situations to this couple and their issues will bring them in to their circle which almost always has the same affect as one cancer absorbing another. People in this lifestyle will avoid couples (and groups) like this at every opportunity if they can. Only when we see a couple “Come out the other side” will they get fully accepted.
“Interesting…you would think there would be more than a third of those people than you’re saying.” She ponders out loud.
“As I continue here you’ll see why in a small way that might be true.” I say to her.
“Now let’s talk about the last third. This is where a lot of gray area develops these days. In years past it was driven almost exclusively by the male part of a relationship. The male has a Neanderthal mentality about themselves (and this has nothing to do with the level of education they have). Women were there for the taking and have little input to the whole idea in their little world. They would badger, berate, and, in many cases, physically abuse their spouse to get what they wanted. More often than not, they had been sleeping around, and in many cases, almost from the day they said “I do”. They’re convinced no single woman could satisfy them and they should be able to have their “pick of the litter” as often as possible because they’re so wonderful. The lifestyle provides them this opportunity without apology, in their mind, because women don’t deserve one. They have forced their spouse (in one way or another) to agree to do this. People in this lifestyle see them coming a mile away most of the time and steer a wider than normal path away from them. We don’t need the drama nor do we need their amateurish attempt at sexuality. Divorce court is only months away for the majority of them. He’ll think their terrible sex life is all her fault and try to get into the lifestyle through any means. Many in this mindset will even try and get into it without her knowing. She’ll get things like “One of the guys at work told me about this nightclub we should check out. They have music and dancing like you like to do so I told him we’d check it out this weekend.” All not true. He probably found it on the Internet and has already been there once or twice without her where he’s told people he’s single or his “wife’s out of town” but will bring her the next time when she gets back. Stories all of us have heard a million times and don’t buy along with the classic “she doesn’t understand me” line we get when pressed further why she never comes with him.
After a period of time of constant badgering she’ll relent and agree to give it a try. Rather than be happy about that he’ll press to make anything and everything happen as soon as possible so that he can finally get what he thinks he wants. Her needs, interests and/or reservations will become even more of an afterthought than they were before. Upon arriving at their first party or club he’ll zero in on the most attractive woman in the place who will probably shut him down due to his overly aggressive approach and the obvious timidity of his wife. Un-deterred he’ll quickly move from couple to couple until someone shows at least a little interest in them. He’ll, no doubt, spew line after line of classless sexual innuendo directly to the woman and ignore her husband completely until they agree to go to a room and play. He’ll, usually, try and force his wife to have sex with other women almost immediately regardless if she’s really interested in that. In his mind it will provide him with a long standing fantasy fulfilled and he’ll also think that since that woman just fucked his wife then she should fuck him as well to keep everything even. None of which will be successful unless he meets the dumbest woman on the earth…and even then it won’t last all that long (every human eventually learns enough to get away from their current bad situation. Swinger’s seem to develop radar for such things quickly and bail out as fast as possible.)”
Rachel sat silently as I went through all of this. Her mouth hung open in astonishment and she held her wine glass close to her. Other than the occasional glance towards Lynn she didn’t move. Finally she utters an “Amazing…I’ve met a lot of jerks in my life so far but never thought for a moment how awful they might really be.”
“Frighteningly sad but true…unfortunately.” I say to her and pour myself another drink.
The girls and I spent a few moments talking about heading back to the bedroom for “Round Two” but, because of the lateness, decided to save that for another evening. As Rachel dressed we made plans to meet again in a few days to pick up where we left off tonight. As we all kissed goodnight we said we’d feed her next time as well. She said goodnight and drove off into the night with, no doubt, a hundred images and feelings bouncing around in her head and a hundred more questions for our next meeting.
As you can see one in three men survive the jump…where do you stand at this point?
Besides the reasons already stated there is one glaring thing men don’t factor into this whole situation…men don’t account for much in this lifestyle. Like it or not the guys are just along for the ride. Admittedly it’s a great ride but we are seldom, if ever, in the driver’s seat.
The women are the draw card here. They have all of the control and are going to tell you who, when and possibly how you’re going to fuck someone. True, we do have input into things (especially if you’re a couple in that top third and know how to communicate without blaming or badgering) but the indisputable fact is… If they’re not comfortable with someone or a situation…I guarantee you nothing is going to happen except perhaps a very long fight on the way home if you press the issue which could very quickly end your foray into our world.
(NOW…LET’S TALK ABOUT THE WOMEN.)
Like I said a few moments ago…it’s all about you. You’re the reason this lifestyle works. If you’re in it for the right reasons you exude sexuality and sensuality in everything you do. You can’t help it it’s a natural part of you. The fact that you’re alive and present in the here and now makes you more seductive than the average woman. The vast majority of women in this lifestyle have no “Diva” attitude for the most part. Some may flash a bit of that from time to time but it’s usually gone and forgiven quickly.
The women in our world, regardless of height, weight or economic level, work hard to take care of themselves and look attractive when they go out, even someplace as common as the grocery store. Another trait we swingers develop is a lifestyle form of “gaydar”. No matter where we are Lynn and I notice people who are, no doubt about it, part of our world as they navigate through the rest of their private lives outside the lifestyle.
Appropriate clothes don’t necessarily mean frumpy or plain in our lifestyle where the women are concerned (something I wish the guys paid more attention to personally). This doesn’t mean there isn’t the occasional faux pas on both ends of the spectrum with that regard. Wearing a short dress with a plunging neckline is very appropriate to any lifestyle event but probably not to the kid’s PTA meeting or open house at school.
Since many of you are reading this to learn what you should or shouldn’t do as you enter this lifestyle here’s a short primer to get the ideas going.
First off, always wear what flatters you and your figure as well as your age. It’s not a travesty if you can’t wear skinny jeans without looking like a smoked sausage. Popular fashions are designed to look good on anorexic teenagers in a size 0. Most women can’t wear that stuff but that doesn’t mean you can’t be creative and contemporary without looking like someone’s mom or grandmother.
Dress to thrill. Women in this lifestyle want to be looked at, lusted after and adored. Don’t be afraid to be daring in what and how you wear things. If you feel comfortable and think what you’re wearing looks good on you…chances are the world will too.
Be creative. You don’t necessarily have to spend a fortune (although once you get the hang of this I have no doubt you will happily do so) to get great party clothes. Very few of Lynn’s clothes come from places like Fredrick’s, Victoria’s Secret, bebe and so on. She has found things in the unlikeliest of places from time to time like WalMart and Target of all places. Everything else has been from normal every day retailers at the shopping mall or specialty retailers locally or online (every city has at least one lingerie or specialty shop that caters to exotic and topless dancers where you can buy sexy shoes and accessories from. If not you can find them everywhere online.)
What you fill your wardrobe with is pretty much up to you. The only common staple amongst lifestyle women is the school girl skirt. I don’t pretend to know why that is…but it is. (Lynn has at least three that I can think of.)
We’ve, by now, established that you’re the one in control of the situation, but don’t let that go to your head, especially with regard to your husband or significant other. If you think you’ll be able to have all of the fun and keep your husband or boyfriend on the sidelines you may be in for a rude awakening. Scenarios like that suggest problems this lifestyle can’t fix and can do irreparable harm to your relationship and, very probably, your reputation.
When it comes to the rest of the men you encounter be smart, clever, and as sexy as you feel comfortable but not deceptive. You’re not obligated to have sex with anyone just because they (and you) are in this lifestyle. A simple “No Thank You” will usually take care of any unwanted advances, if not there are still suitable options available without resulting to some form of hand to hand combat for your husband. Stirring the pot accidentally or intentionally is not a good thing either. If it appears to be done as an attempt to validate your spouse’s feelings towards you this is a very cheap thing to do and will be noticed by all quickly. The Lifestyle has no tolerance for drama of any kind. Being sexy and playful is one thing but… That doesn’t mean you have the right to manipulate the relationship in any way. If you’re so inclined to do something like that you’d be better off not getting into swinging. You might get away with it for a short while but, eventually, unknown to you people will have noticed this and begin to treat you more like a leper than a friend or playmate.
Women are held to the same standards as the men are in our little world and are expected to conduct themselves with honesty and civility and courtesy.
In spite of the intense sexuality within our world there is a little unspoken prudishness within it as well. Affairs rarely happen, compared to the vanilla world outside the lifestyle. Only a very small fraction of people end up divorcing due to outside affairs with playmates. Many in that small percentage that do are usually with co-workers who aren’t in the lifestyle. The few divorces that do occur in our world are usually from family, health and financial issues just like the vanilla world. Thankfully for all of us even those are significantly far fewer than the number of couples in the vanilla world. That’s largely due to the strong, trusting, loving relationship people in this lifestyle have always had, even before they started swinging.
If you have jealousy issues talk about it beforehand. If jealousy is too extreme for either of you to handle I would suggest counseling not swinging until such time that you can deal with that issue…if ever.
Now let’s talk about that “lower third” again. It used to be the men in the forefront of that group but in the past decade or so as we turned in to a new century the women began to match that false bravado. Their reasons are every bit as different and varied as the men’s but they have the same obsession to satisfy the sexual fantasies of what swinging is in their heads. Their methods are equally as cruel and destructive. Their motives are every bit as selfish and foolish. If you, even remotely, have less than honest intentions towards the relationship with your spouse or boyfriend at this point in time do everyone in this lifestyle a favor and find other means to get what you want in life sexually. We ABSOLUTELY do not want your drama.
Well… If I haven’t completely scared the hell out of you or bored you to death. Let’s talk about the fun stuff and how to meet us!
SANGRIA of DEATH
Here’s a great sangria to make for a party or casual evening with friends that makes the evening flow smoothly without always having to open bottles.
3 bottles of inexpensive decent red wine that you would normally drink
1 bottle (750 ml) brandy
3 cans of your favorite fruit nectars (Kern’s or Goya are great)
1 cup orange juice
Assorted fresh fruits like Oranges, Apples, Pears, and Berries etc.
Combine the wine, orange juice, nectars and ½ of the brandy in a large pitcher or bowel. Slice the fruit up and add them to the wine and let them maturate for at least an hour in the refrigerator before serving.
Makes approximately 24 servings.
WE MEET AGAIN
The most commonly asked questions of us about swinging is “Where do we go to meet people like you?” and “What can we expect once we get there?” The “where” is a little more complicated these days than the “what” so let’s start there for the time being.
The first, and most obvious way these days, is the Internet. There are dozens of sites out there devoted to people in our lifestyle that replaced the more antiquated means previously available to us within the past ten to fifteen years (more on that later). All of them are great sites; some are beyond excellent like Kasidie, Lifestyle Lounge, Swing Lifestyles, The Swing Site, Love Voodoo and many more (all with a dot com behind them). There are a few that sadly are not that great but we won’t trash them here. You will discover as you “perv” through these sites that some will be more appealing than others based on things like quality of the site and ease to navigate, cost if you decide to continue on beyond the free trial period most all of them offer, and most importantly, the appeal of the members. Remember this above all else, it’s all about the attraction and first impressions that will either make this lifestyle successful for you or not.
MYTH NUMBER TWO DEBUNKED:
This one’s kind of a double edged sword. The basic idea behind getting into the Lifestyle is to meet like-minded people you can develop deep friendships with and play with. Attraction is the paramount key to getting to first base with anyone much like any other form of dating is but even more so with swingers. If you haven’t already caught the similarities swinging really is dating just with more sex and less full time commitment attached to it. The biggest problem people make in the beginning is accidentally setting their sights to high. Regardless of whether you’ve been doing this for a minute or a million years you will be judged by the people you meet on your appearance and if you project similar interests to the ones they have outside of the lifestyle (i.e.: money, cars, homes, travel, food, social and recreational interests, family etc.). It may seem cruel or intimidating but, when you stop and think about it, they’re important issues not only for them, but you as well. If you stop and think about it even a little further you and your S.O. have probably talked about what type of people you’re interested in meeting to one degree or another. (If you haven’t had that talk you’d better do so before you go any further. It could avoid potential problems at the wrong time).
While we’re on this subject, identify the physical traits you’re looking for honestly. Everyone wants to fuck the prom queen, but most of us aren’t worthy for one reason or another or we might just find her, a little too late, that she’s cute but dull and dumb as a fence post and really have no interest of any kind on your part towards her.
Vanity has run amuck in swinging since the Internet has become the major source for “hooking up” as many like to call it these days. Pretty much everyone is body conscious these days to one degree or another and swingers have become almost obsessed with it in recent years. This isn’t to say that if you have a few extra pounds or haven’t been in a gym for a while you stand no chance of meeting attractive people…you do. There are millions of “regular” people in this lifestyle and they’re attractive, fun, in great shape (you’ll frequently see the term “height, weight proportionate” or “HWP” everywhere on many people’s profiles), fashionable and great to be around. But, if you zero in on the bodybuilder and the aerobics queen right out of the chute, unless you’re one yourself and probably close to their age, don’t be surprised if you’re met with polite disinterest. It’s nothing personal. They have worked hard to attain what they have physically and prefer to be with people that have that same mindset and devotion to maintaining those traits. On the flipside…if you get approached by a couple and you’re not even sure you want to shake hands with them it will be your turn to be politely disinterested and pass at that point. Trust me…that will happen.
Once you find people that share a mutual interest and attraction with you the real fun begins. Then you all get to dig a little deeper into personalities. The physical takes a slight backseat and you actually get to find out if these people are likeable and have the same social and sexual interests, limitations, experiences as you do (or hope to soon have). If it all works out (and I hope it does for you sooner than later) you’ll be invited to play together (or you may just feel bold enough to ask them to play). If that turns out to be pleasantly successful you may quickly meet or be introduced to others. From there you will begin to develop your own circle of “Friends with Benefits” that will be the ever changing core of your swinging life. Why “ever changing”? Because like anything in life nothing is permanent, your tastes may change and some of the people you first started out with may not be as much like you as you first thought or you or they have to move away. Family issues may come into play. One can never predict what will happen in the future. We have very few friends, lovers and playmates that we had when we started back in 1973 and that’s probably a good thing. Friendships of that length of time seldom last that long in any world much less this lifestyle. We’re not the same people we were then and all of the factors I just mentioned tend to insure us of change. We do have close, intimate friends we’ve had for many years but, like it or not, people will come and go out of your life in this lifestyle probably a little more often than in the vanilla world simply because of the dynamic of intimacy. Change and variety keep people alive, current and interesting. That’s why you’re thinking about giving this a try in the first place so don’t fear it, embrace it.
Age may come into play as well, especially at the beginning. Many people prefer to have a tight age range when they start out for comfort reasons. That may, or may not, expand as they get further into things. There’s nothing wrong with that, in fact it makes sense.
Here’s an example: I’m in my middle fifties, my head is shaved, I have a white beard and even though I’m a bodybuilder who has lived in a gym his entire life and is considered good looking I still can easily draw comparisons to “Uncle Fester”, “Mr. Clean” or someone’s favorite grandfather. It would stand to reason a younger woman would feel uncomfortable attempting to play with me right from the get-go no matter how good I looked naked unless she had gotten to know me for a while.
To flip this scenario a different way for a moment, during the dozen or so years when I was single between my first and current marriage (I’ve only been married twice) I had a hard and fast rule I wouldn’t date someone under thirty. Partly because I wasn’t sure I could relate to someone in their twenties very well these days and partly because I had already raised children at that point in my life and didn’t want to do that again.
There was also a recurring fear that crept into my brain at night where I would meet an attractive young woman somewhere and things moved to the next level very quickly in the conversation. Before long we’ve decided to go someplace more private. I would bring her home and over wine and seductive conversation begin to slowly remove her clothing as I stroked her body and enjoyed her response to my touch as I worked her pussy into a glossy, wet entrance. She would slide down between my legs and begin to suck and lick my cock until it rose to its full attention. I would stand up, then carry her into the bedroom, lay her down, and begin to slide my stiff self into her very tight, pussy…when her eyes would pop open wide and she’d yelp “Oh My God! You’re Casey’s dad aren’t you?!” You’d need a stopwatch to time how fast I’d go soft and never see my cock return to life for the rest of eternity.
This isn’t to say age is an insurmountable obstacle. With time generally comes change in attitude, parameters and comfort levels. The longer you’re in this lifestyle and the more familiar you become with this community the age limitations on both sides to certain degrees become less and less. Lynn and I have a phonebook full of friends, lovers and playmates all across the age spectrum these days. They are people we’re very connected with at so many levels that age seldom, if ever, enters the picture. It’s something we had to work at and don’t take for granted. We earned it with time, experience and respect. Most everyone in our world can and does achieve getting past this along the way. I’m sure you will too if you don’t force the issue.
Before you go looking through sites (hopefully together) take a little time to define what the two of you are looking for. Once you find a site or two you like you’re going to be asked to fill out a profile on that site which will ask you just that as well as describe yourselves and your interests in and out of bed. They all will ask you to post at least one picture, which I strongly suggest you do. And, even though you might have an obsession with cars, boats, motorcycles etc., don’t use that as your main picture. You shouldn’t use a shot of one or both of you on your last vacation either. People want to see you in a normal, hopefully sexy, setting that illustrates who and what you are sexually. The rest of that stuff is just fluff and filler people will look at if they’re interested enough to check out your profile. You can be as discreet as you feel necessary you have to be but don’t be boring. The more pictures you add the more interest your profile will generate and the quicker you will make contact with people. Most every site has do’s and don’ts about what you can post as well as categories to post in so read those carefully and post accordingly to those requirements. Generally the categories are color coded or labeled like “Tame/Public, Gold, Red, Private and XXX” and along with that, other than the public ones, everybody else is limited to what they can see without your permission. You can generally be as explicit as you want to be within those categories and what you choose to put in them is only limited to your creativity and inhibitions. You may have some fun shots in swimwear or sexy evening wear in one place, minus the clothes at the same place in another or breaking in a new toy somewhere other than the bedroom in yet another. It’s all up to you. If you’re a couple it’s always a good idea to have several pictures of the both of you regardless. This is a welcomed and needed safeguard for everyone so that the whole world knows you’re who you say you are and that no one doesn’t see something you don’t want everyone to see but would like a special few to view and enjoy.
A SPECIAL NOTE ABOUT PICS:
It seems everyone these days gets a thrill out of documenting what great lovers they are in one fashion or another but…Before you run out and post the pics of your first encounter on your profile page (or God forbid…your Twitter account) be very sure to get the permission of ALL involved parties. Like you they may have some reservations about where and how images of themselves get posted on the internet. Along the same lines never assume you can walk into a party or event and start taking pictures. The hosts and/or their guests may take issue with that as well.
When you first sign up at a site you will be “Uncertified” and your ability to view the pictures on other people’s profiles may be limited to you. Once you actually meet a few people face to face they will certify you on that site and your access will be far more open to you.
While we’re talking about this…GUYS…DO NOT get on a site and make a profile saying you’re a couple if you’re not. You will be found out and you will end up getting kicked off of the site and if you were dumb enough to pay for a membership to that site you will not get your money back.
Along the same lines, don’t try and convince someone to certify you through an e-mail or IM on the site either. All sites have pretty strict rules about certifying people and if it’s found out a person was certified and it turned out they weren’t entirely who they said they were…the person who did the certifying would get kicked off too along with the offending party. Nobody is willing to let that happen so don’t bother to ask.
Before you go and start contacting other people on the site you’ve chosen READ THEIR ENTIRE PROFILE. That will save you some initial frustration. They may look cute but if they’re not looking for what you’re looking for chances are you will get no response or a polite rejection. If you smoke and they don’t pass, if you’re a straight woman and she’s looking for bi women pass, and so on. There is no amount of begging and pleading that is going to change that or what they’re looking for. It’s as simple as that. If they find you interesting and are willing to change their parameters they’ll contact you. Also if you do get rejected… writing them a “nasty gram” for rejecting you is not a great idea either. That type of negative childishness circulates like wildfire and then even people who might actually be interested in you will have heard of you and think twice about starting any type of relationship with you at all. It’s not worth the risk. Just let the water pass under the bridge.
So now you’re a newly minted newbie to our world…what’s next? As you peruse the swinger site of your choice you’ll notice all sorts of interesting stuff and somewhere in the home page of the site is usually a “Parties and Events” section or button. Once you enter that section you’ll see all sorts of happenings sorted from the closest ones to you to the furthest.
You’ll see meet & greets, which are usually a gathering at a public or semi public bar or nightclub. This is always a good place to start. The atmosphere is usually relaxed and lacks any pressure to play right away plus the people are a little easier to approach at these events depending on the music levels. It’s always best to find and introduce yourselves to the hosts the first time you go. They will be able to size you up and introduce you to a few people to get the ball rolling for you and give you whatever rules that apply to that particular event. Hosts, regardless of event, are little more than glorified cat herders attempting to keep everyone happy, safe and out of trouble so they may not be able to spend as much time with you as you might hope. Most all will willingly give you ways to contact them with more questions at a later time though.
Also, dependent upon the laws and ordinances where you live, people will probably be mildly risqué in their dress and attitude. Most will be dressed as sexy as they feel comfortably in public in, some will be a little more daring than most but all won’t be showing anything they shouldn’t. It’s not likely you’ll see nudity or sex acts there but many people try and push the envelope the more they drink to the limit the bar can legally tolerate without getting into trouble. You may see a little boob or pussy flashing and a fair amount of women passionately kissing each other but that will pretty much be it. If you feel inclined to join in just follow everyone’s lead as to how far to go. People are there to specifically meet other people and play, possibly not that night but soon so their mood will reflect that. Many will meet people there and head to a nearby home or hotel at one point that very evening. If that turns out to be what happens at your first event and you hit it off with one or more people or couples you’re one step closer to experiencing what this lifestyle has to offer. If you get invited to play that night and you’re feeling game or excited enough to make an invitation yourself…go for it. If not, there will be other nights. If you don’t get an invite…don’t worry about it. This too shall happen.
Hotel Events will also be listed on that site. These are usually larger than a meet & greet but the vibe and intent is the same. A banquet or ballroom has been rented and a block of rooms have probably been reserved at a discounted rate. You usually have to pre-register on the site and pay upfront if you intend to stay the night in one of the rooms. There is usually entertainment in the form of a DJ for dancing, at least one cash bar, possibly use of the pool privately and a little more depending on the event and where it’s held. The people will probably be dressed in their sexiest club clothes and maybe a few with even less on but still legal in public. The idea is that you meet people downstairs in the big room dance and drink a little and then, if things click, you take them up to your room and play. Once you’re done you might head back downstairs and find some other people to play with or just party some more. There are pluses and minuses to this type of event. The pluses are you will probably meet a lot of people and have the room to take things to the next level if you’re so inclined. The down side is it’s only a semi-private event. Only people who paid to be at that event will be in the downstairs portion and most, if not all, of the people on your floor where your room is are there for the same reason but you have to deal with the rest of the world as you negotiate the space to and from those two places as well as deal with security and the definition of “Lewd Behavior” in your town. Add to this the fact that elevators can let anyone off at any floor so sometimes people who shouldn’t be there can accidentally (or intentionally) end up on your floor. There have been several news reports around the country over the years where unintended people got more than an eyeful of things they shouldn’t have been able to see, some funny, some not so funny.
It’s an event a lot of thought and planning ahead of time on your part needs to be done but are usually fun in spite of these cautions.
If you are fortunate enough to have Swinger’s Clubs where you live there will, no doubt, be postings for those as well. The clubs are pretty rapidly disappearing these days across the country thanks largely to legal pressure being applied by the religious right on politicians at all levels. So don’t be surprised if the closest ones to you are in some other state these days.
The clubs, like the swing sites, vary in niceness and available amenities so it may take stopping by more than one (if you have that many choices) before you find one you’re comfortable with. These are still the safest venues for swingers, other than house parties, to be at. They usually have good security, no one is there that shouldn’t be and all of them are designed (again some better than others) for playing. Depending again on your local laws you may step through a door, usually guarded by a security person and see a man on one side of you with his pants down around his ankles getting his cock swallowed by one or more women wearing little, if any, clothing and on the other side see a woman wearing nothing but heels and stockings with her dress laying alongside her draped over a table being fucked and played with by several men while a few women are dancing naked on a stage on a pole with tongues buried deeply inside their partners pussies while finger or fist fucking each other. Then again you may not see anything more than you would in any other nightclub. The action might all be in some other part of the club. You never know what you might see or experience in a club but clubs are well worth visiting.
Then there will be the Lifestyle Resorts like Hedonism, Desire’s, Sea Mountain Inn and others which will be advertising in the events (and possibly travel) sections on the site as well. Every site out there these days has at least one event a year at those places as well as a number of hotels in Las Vegas billed as a complete “take-over” of the resort (not entirely true…especially in Vegas). Some will go as far as to call them “Conventions” (more on that whole ball of wax a little further down the road). You’ll have to be a member of that site and register through them in order to get any special discounts, transportation to and from the airport and, upon arrival, goodie bags filled with items from the site they think you’ll need for the week you’re there and activity itineraries. All of these resorts around the world and a very few in the states are “Adults Only” and clothing optional requiring clothes, generally, only in areas where food is served. How much sexual activity you will view in public areas depends largely on which resort you happen to be at and if you’re with a group or not. Groups tend to bring out the adventurous side in people and you’re more likely to see more things take place because of that than if you and your partner simply go on your own. Left to their own devices, swinger’s take a little more time to warm up to playing than they would in a group situation, there are always a few exceptions to that general rule but they may be a little harder to find without a group around.
We have friends who love to hit one of the resorts at least twice a year regardless if it’s an “event” or not. After arriving and making their way to their room they will unpack what little clothing they brought for the week. Sara will strip to the gold chain she always wears around her waist, put on a pair of heels, and grab her sunglasses and a pario (or sarong depending on what part of the world you’re in. A colorful, usually sheer, piece of cloth that can be wrapped around yourself as either a dress or skirt depending on your need and level of modesty) and head for the beach and a vacant lounge chair. Harry will follow shortly behind also wearing nothing but a pair of sandals, carrying a camera and a towel. Sara will have already reclined into the lounge chair of her choice and have begun scanning the beach for attractive bodies that might be of interest to her. Harry will take up the chair next to her, order them a couple of drinks and appear disinterested.
Sara is a beautiful, tanned woman in her mid-forties with a fit body and very short hair that seems to change color with her mood or the seasons, I’m not sure which. Her “store bought” boobs are adorned with rings through her pierced nipples that go along with the ring in her navel and the ring in each pussy lip to which she occasionally attaches small dangling charms from just for fun. Needless to say she gets a lot of attention which makes it easier for her to capture her prey.
When she comes here she is looking for one thing and one thing only on her first day there. Tall muscular, well hung, preferably black, men, and it usually takes little time before several start circling where she is. She’ll pick out the ones of interest to her and call out “Hi! C’mere” as she waves to them.
As they approach closer she’ll spread her legs a little further wider than they were and give them a good look at her shaved pussy as they shake hands and/or give polite kisses while introductions and compliments are made. Sara is not shy and makes her intentions known quickly by grabbing the closest cock to her and strokes it while they all talk. The others get the message in short order and will begin to stroke and play with her body as her legs spread wide apart and her feet get planted firmly in the sand.
Somewhere in all of this Harry will have gotten out of his chair and had begun taking pictures of the action as the men work their way around Sara’s body. I’ve taken several sets of pictures of her myself over the years and am always impressed when I look at them. By now she’ll have one cock in her mouth, one in her hand, both nipples will have lips sucking on them and a mouth, momentarily, wrapped around her clit until he’ll raise up take his thick, giant cock and slips it into her waiting cunt. Because of his size he’ll move slowly at first until the wetness inside her lubricates them both enough to move faster and deeper. Sara will arch her hips to meet his thrust as he begins to go deeper while her feet grab the sand for more leverage and her moans are louder yet slightly muffled by the cock in her mouth. The man in her pussy will stiffen and moan as he withdraws his cock and spills mountains of cum on Sara’s belly (all caught on camera by Harry) as she shudders and convulses slightly before she begins the first of several orgasms. After which everyone changes places and repeat the scene over and over again until everyone has cum at least once and Sara is too exhausted to cum anymore. Sara will rise up and take a quick dip in the ocean to cool off and clean herself up a little. She will only then notice all of the people sitting nearby and on the patio above her chair on the beach. She had given them all quite a show and will be quietly proud of herself. She returns to her chair and wraps the pario around her waist before she and Harry will retreat to their room for a much needed shower and nap before continuing on with the remainder of their week at the resort.
I have witnessed them (and other couples like them, including myself and women I have been with as well as my sexy wife) do this and many other things in places like this. It’s part of why we all flock to them every year. Different faces in different places helps keep life (and relationships) interesting.
What you probably won’t see on the sites are ads or invites for House Parties. There may be though an ad for a “House Party” that you’ll have to “apply” to. Upon acceptance you’ll get an e-mail with directions, possibly a code word or number and it will, no doubt, ask for a cash “donation” of some amount and possibly to bring food as well. These are not true house parties. They are generally “For Profit” parties trying to behave like a swing club without all of the security, amenities and safety guidelines associated with a good swing club. They usually lack the security (if any), amenities (again if any) and screening that a club typically provides. More often than not they will allow anyone who is willing to fork out the money for the “donation” to enter regardless of the application process which means the number of people there are largely single men (and many married men whose wives don’t know they’re there). This type of party along with house parties who advertise but don’t charge are almost always hosted by single men trying to find “fuck buddies” they don’t have to pay for and/or looking for an entrée’ into the Lifestyle without actually trying to have a relationship with a woman. I strongly suggest you avoid both of these two things at all costs unless your fantasy is a gangbang with several anonymous men.
The House Party you should seek is an invitation you get from people you have actually met and like. Private house parties can be as intimate or as large as the host feels comfortable in having. Lynn and I have hosted parties for as few as four to eight couples to as many as one hundred and fifty people and we have attended dozens of parties within those ranges and a few even larger.
The size of the house and number of people usually dictates what amenities will be available. The guests are all hand-picked by the hosts with the thought of how well they would all get along so they’re usually great fun and lack the drama many events can bring to the table. Some hosts may ask you to bring your own alcohol and or a side dish of some kind. Some won’t ask you to bring anything at all except a towel if you plan on using the pool or spa.
House Parties are the “tried and true” gatherings for all swingers that go back as far as recorded time can take us so they are still the preferred way to mix, mingle and play.
The downside is, if you’re just starting out, it will take a little time to get that first invite but as you can see it shouldn’t be too long and well worth the wait. Don’t push for an invite either. That pushiness can easily be misinterpreted and keep you on the sidelines even longer.
Examples of house parties pepper this book so we won’t illustrate one here other than to say expect to play when you go to one but, as always, you’re not expected to play with just anyone simply because you’re there. If the attraction isn’t there or someone’s advances are a little too aggressive you always have the right to say “No Thank You”.
Lastly…Conventions may be listed on the site (or sites) of your choice as well. That’s largely a false title these days in this lifestyle. A true convention is, by definition, an all inclusive gathering to network, learn new information or techniques and promote the subject entity of the convention like electronics, nursing, real estate, teaching etc. There was only one real convention for Swingers and that was the Lifestyles Convention that was around for many years before eventually having to fold their tents due to financial issues which were in part because of several Internet sites.
Members of several sites (many of whom were very new to this lifestyle) became very vocal about the convention and their dislikes of the locations, amenities, people who attended and much more. Only a small amount of those issues had any merit. Much of their complaints were purely ego driven or out of the convention promoter’s control. Egged on by the owners of those sites who saw a profit potential it got to a point of becoming quite volatile and soon those sites were advertising their own swinger’s “convention”. Many times their convention scheduled to happen the same week as the Lifestyle’s Convention. Of course the only people who knew this “convention” was going on were people who happened to be members of that particular site. Hardly an all encompassing plan and all it has done is create a lot of “Us against Them” back biting amongst many of the sites. It’s not that those events aren’t fun, they are, it’s they’re just not what they say they are. They do tend to have a limited approach about swinging because of that as well that reflect more the mindset of the sponsoring site and what they believe swinging to be. At a true convention you were exposed to far more beliefs and opinions than you get today at those other events.
Let’s take a moment to talk about traveling in the Lifestyle these days.
As you have read you may find yourself doing a lot more traveling in and out of the country than you might have done before getting into this lifestyle. This can be a daunting task for many in the beginning but it does get easier. You will learn how (and what) to pack and what to leave home (sex toys in the carry-on…not a good idea). You’ll learn how to negotiate your way through foreign airports and customs in record time and where to go (or not to go) in the countries you travel through. You’ll also learn to turn the “party switch” off at times. Swingers are aggressive partiers by nature and it becomes very easy to forget where you are and what you’re doing. Sometimes that creates negative events you might not have planned on or for which can really screw up a great trip. Just because we’re swingers no one has granted us any level of entitlement anywhere on the planet that allows us to behave poorly. Speaking of that…
(THE UGLY AMERICAN)
I had the great misfortune to meet my worst nightmare face to face at a meet & greet recently and I haven’t been able to sleep well since.
A couple had shown up and I wasn’t sure they were there for our event but I introduced myself and inquired anyways. I can’t begin to tell you what a mistake that was.
He was dressed in a ball cap, polo shirt, cargo shorts and athletic shoes. She was dressed in her finest K-Mart apparel (circa 1983) and both were so hammered they couldn’t stand up if they had to. This wasn’t the issue, what poured out of his mouth shortly after the “hello, nice to meet you, welcome” beginning of the conversation we had was.
First thing he wanted to know was if there were any parties happening after the meet & greet (there was but I wasn’t likely to tell him or invite him just yet…if at all) then, without missing a beat, began complaining about the current state of swing clubs here in our particular state and “Why can’t we have one here that’s worth going to or at least be like the ones they have in Europe?”. An, admittedly, valid question I often ask myself these days. With that I began to explain the whole sordid issue and political pressure clubs are getting here in the states until he jumped back in saying that they’re very nice looking places in Europe but “snooty” in his opinion. This is where I made my fatal mistake… I asked him why he thought that.
Before I go any further let me give you an idea of what a swing club is like in Europe. They are very elegant, classy places that have an atmosphere and look of a sexually charged, “anything goes” ultra-upscale nightclub or country club. They have dress codes and the food served, more often than not, rivals any three star restaurants in the world. They are where you can eat your meal while getting a blow job then fuck your dinner companion with the empty wine bottle when you’re done if the urge struck you and no one would look twice at you… in other words, my kinda place. A friend of mine owns such a place and I know what an effort is made to have everything perfect for their guests and it’s a great deal more effort than the majority of clubs here in the states put into theirs.
Back to that sorry couple. He went on to tell me that the clubs in France and Amsterdam wouldn’t let him in. “Why?” I asked.
When he travels he’s on vacation and likes to dress casual “Just like I am right now” he tells me, but the armed gorilla’s in Armani at the door of each of the clubs they visited (yep they have ‘em…it’s easier for just about anyone to get into the VIP section of a nightclub here in the states than it is a swing club there if you don’t meet their standards) wouldn’t let them in.
“C’mon it’s a fuck club you’re there to fuck not look good right?” he bellowed as his wife threw me a disgusted and drunken look of agreement with him before he continued adding that no matter how much they complained they weren’t allowed in until they put some “appropriate” clothes on (One would think they caught on to this after the first time it happened) “even though we were going to be naked five minutes after we walked through the door” (were they? HMMM).
I pointed out that, while they were on vacation, the people who frequented those clubs were not. Europeans tend to dress a little more formally when they go out socially even if it is a swing club. He was unimpressed and thought that was complete bullshit. “They should have cut me some slack and made an exception. I was going to spend a shit load of money in those places!” he complained.
They went on to say that they played very little (imagine that) once they did get into a couple of the places and that they were eventually not allowed in to some of those clubs regardless of how they were dressed (surprise, surprise) or how much they complained.
It’s no wonder we Americans have such a bad reputation globally due in part to the outward lack of social etiquette we as a whole display but add to that behaving like sexual Neanderthals doesn’t help things much.
The Lifestyle is sexy, fun, vibrant and exciting regardless of where in the world you happen to be but you’re only going to get out of it what you put into it and making the right impression from the get go is essential. Having an unrealistic sense of entitlement about it all is a recipe for disaster on so many levels it’s not funny. Why wouldn’t you want to be social and approachable without offending everyone in the country? If you don’t do that you’re just another arrogant “Ugly American”… even in you own country. Alas…I have seen more of these types of people than I should have hoped for in my life and it disappoints me greatly, along with the rest of the Lifestyle, all too often. The less you look and act like a typical American while abroad…the less rudeness and outright hostility you will encounter in your travels and probably make for a far better experience.
I have not encountered that couple again since that night and hope I never do. I hope YOU never do as well.
These are the experiences that await you in our world if you are ready to proceed. If you’re not…I wish you well. If you are ready, continue on. There is more to learn in fun ways.
We’ll take just a quick stop to talk about an outside influence that tends to confuse many people regarding this lifestyle. The media…read on.
THE SUN RISES
“I’m not sure what to do with my life right now Doc” my friend Lynn says as she takes a drag off her cigarette. “Do I start dating women again or do I start dating men again?” she asks rhetorically not sure if I have an answer for her or that she really wants one right now yet you can see her wheels turning frantically (something that happens often with her). She’s just come out of a long term lesbian relationship that ended in an ugly hurtful way, something that shouldn’t happen to someone like her. She’s an incredibly attractive woman with a great heart and personality, not to mention a body that will stop traffic. A “Lipstick Lesbian” by many people’s definition whose sexuality goes undetected by most of the world because she’s so feminine and put together, even in business attire. She doesn’t set anyone’s “Gaydar” off. She seldom notices gender and looks at everyone the same way giving her more options than most people. This causes her to be more open than most people and tends to be attracted to a person regardless of the anatomy they pack. After one of her marriages had ended she started into a relationship with a dyke who looked more male than a lot of men I know that also turned out to be a toxic manipulator always stirring the pot emotionally and trolling for potential new lovers and conquests every chance she got. The last one she was brazen enough to move into the house she and Lynn shared and then moved Lynn out. Lynn’s hurting and confused and not sure which way to point her life right now and I’m not sure how helpful I can be right this minute. At the moment I’m dealing with Ann. Beautiful but volatile, you never knew what to expect on a day to day basis with her and it wore on me quickly and easily.
We’ve been living together, again, for quite a while now but, due to Ann being Ann, I’ve had about all I can take. She’s going to trip herself up in a few weeks forcing everything to come to a head and end our relationship for the second and final time but for now though…life is what it is.
“I know you’re still hurting right now, but I don’t know you really need to decide which gender to pursue at the moment. Just relax and see people and enjoy what’s going on. The gender issue will present itself in its own time and way. My God you’re great looking and have so much going on and to offer people…you won’t be on the sidelines for long if at all.” I tell Lynn.
“You really think so Doc?”
She takes a second to take that in as she takes another drag of her cigarette.
“Besides, you may not have to choose either side.” I tell her as she gives me a more than perplexed look.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve known me for quite a while and my, somewhat, adventurous, albeit different, life. I could introduce you to people who could guide you to all of the right people and places that could accommodate that part of you without having to make a gender choice.”
“OK, now I’m really confused pal. What are you talking about?”
“Yep, you’ll very quickly discover there are more people out there that are as bisexual as you are and, trust me sweetie, they would be only too happy to have you in their lives.”
“You’re…you and Ann are swingers?!”
“Oh hell no, I took a break from the Lifestyle when she and I got together. I wouldn’t have wished that on my worst enemy!”
“Interesting thought…I’ll have to think about it for a while.”
“You do that.”
Just after that talk everything hit the fan for Ann and me creating a “tragic-comedy” worthy of a Shakespeare play. The only time Lynn and I would talk much was at a company Christmas party we attended. She looked amazing that night and the conversation was quite general in nature due to the proximity of prying ears and we would both leave and go home…quite alone.
I wouldn’t see Lynn for several months after that due to her changing jobs and companies but almost six months to the day we had our talk.
Once the shit finally hit the fan for Ann and me I was happily single again and I found myself dating a different woman almost every week over several months.
One Saturday morning I ran into Lynn again while running errands. She looked amazing, not that she hadn’t before, but gone was the extra few pounds the depression from that last relationship had added to her. The jeans and top she was wearing were devastatingly sexy on her. She was sunny; cheery…in fact she was downright exotic looking which caused me to see her in a whole different way for the first time since I’ve known her. There was a confidence in her I don’t remember ever seeing before. She joined me for lunch and filled me in about her life since I last saw her and the people she had been dating and then helped me finish my errands, one of which was getting a housewarming gift for a mutual friend of ours we had both worked with who had just separated from her husband and dropping it off at her new place (a vibrator no less). The whole time we were out the conversation hovered indirectly around the questions she was starting to have about what we had talked about months earlier. I took Lynn with me to a nearby Adult Toy Store where we proceeded to buy our friend the new vibrator. We had a feeling she’d need it.
That would be the first of many days Lynn and I would spend together. Once Lynn learned I could cook… she was more than a little intrigued, a few nights after that first afternoon I had her over for dinner. I cooked pan seared pork loins with scallions, shallots and dried cranberries in a wine reduction sauce (recipe to follow) along with oven roasted Brussels sprouts in a reduced balsamic glaze. Dessert was a heaping helping of sex surprisingly provided by Lynn when I least expected it that started off with one of my favorite things…sex. I found myself taking in her scent in and it was intoxicating. She was breathtaking. It wasn’t the perfume she was wearing it was just the way she smelled that sent my head spinning. Before I knew it I had her in my arms and I was removing her clothes whispering the things I had always wanted to do to her in her ear while we kissed like we’ve never kissed anybody in our lives before. I stopped long enough to lick and nibble on her huge tits which got an excited gasp out of her instantly before sliding my hands over the rest of her body. Her hands made a quick trip to her pussy and with no apparent look of guilt or embarrassment worked herself into a hot, wet cavity in record time. On the way into the bedroom I took just enough time to light a few candles and put a few quiet jazz songs on the CD player. I had her on the bed and my face buried deep between her legs so fast after that you’d have needed a stopwatch to time it. I didn’t want to waste a moment. I wanted all of her NOW. Lynn has a beautiful pussy and it didn’t take long for me to find out she loves having it played with anywhere, anytime any way you can think of. Just as Diana Krall’s sultry crooning of “S’Wonderful, S’Marvelous” filled the room it took no time at all for her to gush great torrents of cum out of her pussy and all over us, the bed and floor. I also quickly discovered this woman had only one volume when she was enjoying herself and that was loud, raw, and earth shaking. I’m sure the people in the apartment next door must have thought I was killing her…it was great. I swung around and brought my cock into close range of her mouth. She latched on and drew my entire cock down her throat. The power and action she created had me ready to explode almost immediately. I held back as long as I could before dumping every drop of cum in my body deep down her throat and she didn’t let one drop get away.
Instead of going soft my cock got harder. I quickly pulled out of her mouth and rolled around to face her. As I did so I slid into the soaking wet pussy I had been eating that was as hot and moist as anyone could possibly imagine. With every thrust she would jump and cum again and again with an “ah…ah...ah” gasp in rhythm to her orgasms. After what seemed like an eternity she began to lose strength. The moans and screams were becoming less and less so I slowed my motions down until I gradually came to a complete stop and rolled off of her both of us breathless.
We were lying there in bed recovering and enjoying the moment after several hours of mind bending sex when the questions started coming back into the conversation. She wasn’t sure she would be comfortable being naked in a group situation. I made a suggestion that we have a little outing the following weekend. I wouldn’t tell her where but I was sure she’d enjoy it.
The next Saturday Lynn showed up at my apartment and off we went to the store where we picked up some freshly sliced meat, cheese, crackers, fruit and some wine. I had told her to dress to be out in the sun for the day but that was all I told her and off we drove out of town to a nudist ranch just north of the valley. As we arrived she wasn’t sure what to say to me when we drove through the gate and up to the office. She gave me this look like I was out of my mind but she didn’t resist and went in with me to register. She was a little tentative taking off her clothes once we got to a place near the pool and tried not to look too bashful as she laid out a towel on a lounge chair while I opened the wine and handed her a glass.
She leaned back in her chair and started to slowly take in her surroundings. “Why here?” she asked me as she took a drink of her wine.
“I want you to feel comfortable with your body and seeing other people naked.” “Why?”
“It’s possible you’ll learn that answer in the near future.” I said as another couple came and took up the space next to us while striking up a conversation with Lynn. A short time later Lynn was invited to take a quick dip in the pool with the woman next to us where she sat on the steps of the pool and talked to several other people for a while then retreated back to her chair. She looked amazing naked in the sun as she walked back. Curvy…real woman curvy, firm but just shy of a hardbody, large breasted but everything fit. Her blonde hair shined in the sun. She looked like she had always belonged there.
An hour later she looked over at me from her lounge chair and sighed “Why haven’t I done this before?” she was hooked on the sensation of feeling the breeze on her skin and the sun warming it. She looked happy and content. She was so relaxed and had so much fun we would repeat that day many times over from that day on.
The following weekend after another dinner at my place I looked at her and asked if she were up for more adventure that night and she smiled and said “Sure why not!” I had asked her to bring clothes to stay the weekend and then after surveying what she brought had taken her shopping that afternoon for some clothes I quickly realized she didn’t have. Watching her try on clothes was more of a turn-on than I might have imagined it to be. Seeing her curvy body and huge rack fill those clothes was instant hard-on material and she was enjoying the attention. We found her the sexiest little black dress we could find and a nice pair of heels to go along with it along with half a dozen other outfits and shoes. After dinner I had her get dressed, loaded her into the car and headed off into the night.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see” as we pulled on to the freeway and headed south.
Before long we’re in an industrial area full of warehouses and little else. We pull up to the well lit parking lot of one of them. The lot is full of cars and I walk her across the lot to the door “Welcome to Wonderland” I tell her as I open the door. She looked puzzled but went in with me. We walk in and I show them my membership card, pay our fee and get buzzed through the door where a big hulking security person opens the door for us and smiles at Lynn as we enter into an unexpected world she could never have dreamt of.
As we step through the door we get the full force of the music pounding out of the sound system as Pink’s “Get the Party Started” explodes into our ears and see the lights filling the room. It looks like any other upscale nightclub. An excellent sound and light system, seating everywhere, a large dance floor and so on with a few noticeable exceptions… like a couple of stripper poles and some of the people are naked. The place is packed. I look at Lynn who is in a slight state of shock and say “Welcome to a Swingers Club” as I lead her across the room to get her something to drink before she passes out from shock then I set her down at a table and let her drink it all in for a bit.
It’s still early but some people have already lost some or all of their clothes. I know as the evening wears on there will be more people naked than not. A few feet from us one guy is getting a blowjob from a cute little blonde in nothing more than a lime green g-string and a pair of boots. Right next to them a drop dead gorgeous brunette in a school girl outfit is getting her pussy munched on by another woman wearing absolutely nothing. If Lynn’s head could spin completely around it would have been. She leans over and gives me a kiss and says “This is great!” as I part her legs and stroke her pussy to gage how she was doing…and she was doing juuuuust fine. She never once looked around to see if anyone was looking. She didn’t care; she wanted them to look and was eating it up.
“You haven’t seen anything yet c’mon.” I say and I lead her to the back rooms. As we’re walking towards the first door I tell her “In the Lifestyle…the women have all of the power and control. A lot of men hate to hear this but…we’re just along for the ride.”
“What do you mean?” she asks half laughing, half serious.
“The women are the draw card not the men. The women lay out the basic ground rules to start and dictate who, if anyone, we’re going to play with, when and how. If they’re not attracted to the other people or feel uncomfortable in some way…it’s not going to happen.”
“Oh.” was all she said as we hit the first stop.
This was the “TV room”. Two large TV’s playing non-stop porn movies with couches everywhere, the walls are black and dimly lit with little else to see except bodies in various stages of undress, groping, sucking, fucking and whatever else they can come up with to do in the increasingly crowded confines of that room. We weren’t in the room more than a minute when a woman next to us steps closer to Lynn and slides her hand up Lynn’s dress while saying hello and begins kissing her as she finds and fingers Lynn’s pussy which startled her but didn’t cause her to make the woman stop. “So how does this work?” she leans over and whispers to me. “If you like something…enjoy it. If you don’t say “no thank you” and they’ll move on.” I tell her. She grins at me, says “Hmmmm” then turns quickly and grabbed the woman returning her kiss with a more serious lip lock while starting to feel the woman’s body from outside her clothes.
Next thing I know they’re both up against the wall next to a small table filled with fresh towels, condoms, sanitizers and such kissing and groping slowly and intimately. The woman first turns Lynn facing the wall and she instinctively raised her hands above her head and placed them against the wall for support in anticipation of what might be coming next. The unknown woman’s hand dives back under Lynn’s dress and works her pussy to the point I can hear the squishing sound her pussy makes as she begins to squirt buckets of cum out of her pussy onto the floor. Suddenly the woman throws a towel on the floor and drops to her knees and buries her face into Lynn’s pussy while the woman’s partner pulls her dress up higher for a better look and all she can do is spread her legs wider and look at me and grin. Lynn fishes the man’s dick out of his pants and puts a death grip on it and begins to pump him hard. It doesn’t take long and he begins to stiffen up and groan as he plays with Lynn’s, now exposed, nipple. He groans once more and his wife moves her head and begins to slurp the cum out of his cock while fingering Lynn then returns to her pussy and starts to bring her to another full orgasm. Before long I hear that, what is increasingly becoming, all too familiar sound of her cumming in her wide open uninhibited style I still love to this day. It takes all three of them a moment or two to recover. The man then grabs his wife and leads her over to one of the couches with his dick still poking out of his pants and bends her over the back, lifts her skirt up exposing her bare ass and slides his cock inside her as Lynn and I clean her up and then make our way out of the room.
A short distance down the hall we head in to “Mass Hysteria”. A large room with several beds filled with naked bodies everywhere. Lynn sees an unoccupied pussy in front of her attached to an athletic looking young woman and looks at me with a smile before diving right on it. I must say I was hugely impressed with her technique and lack of inhibition. To watch her run her tongue over that slit and see her begin to suck and massage that woman’s clit was breathtaking. Even more so when a man pulled up behind her and slid his condom covered cock into her pussy and saw that quickly becoming all too familiar shiver of pleasurable release she has while never losing track of the task at hand. It was so amazing I almost came just watching it all.
I glanced around the room and fondly remembered all of the times I had been in there. The night I took a woman I was dating at the time in on a singles and couples night. She had a thing for big cocks and black ones in particular. (This proved to be beneficial during basketball season. We ended up with some pretty nice seats for NBA games due to our “friendship” with some of the visiting players we met at parties and here at the club back then) She had scoped out the crowd, handpicked the ones she liked brought them back here and then lined the eight guys she wanted against the wall and sucked them dry before climbing onto one of the beds to get gang banged by them all. Ohhhhh…to have had a camera that night and have it be OK to take pictures in there. (No camera’s allowed in a swing club)
The time I took my former high school sweetheart Shannan in there during her visit a couple of years earlier she took on three men with one in her ass, one in her pussy and one in her mouth only to turn around and do an all girl daisy chain on the same bed with six women an hour later. Shannan slurped up so much cum and pussy juice that night she could barely walk back to the car when we finally left near sunrise.
Fortunately for me Amy (an old playmate from the past and one of Shannan’s playmates on that fateful night I took her there) found me first through the crowd and gave me a reason to cum rather than blow my load alone while watching Lynn. After that she turned her sights on Lynn’s cream filled pussy and sent her into a screaming orgasm that drew rounds of applause for both of them and embarrassed the shit out of Lynn for a moment. Amy and Lynn became fast friends (and lovers) for quite a while after that.
After that Lynn was exhausted and needed a break so back out to the main floor we went. There, fighting to hear through the beat of “Cowboy” by Kid Rock, I was able to fill her in on more rules and what to expect while she sat on a towel to soak up all of the juices running out of her well fucked pussy. She kept looking at me and asking all sorts of questions like how I deal with all of it and why it doesn’t bother me seeing your “significant other” with other people and such. Once I assured her that I wasn’t wired the same as many men and I’ve had lots of practice so there weren’t any jealousy issues or hidden agenda’s involved she seemed to accept that, more or less, and relax for the moment. I knew (and hoped) there would be more questions later but I wasn’t concerned. She admitted she didn’t know what to expect from me after all of the other drama she had encountered in past relationships. I told her what I was telling her was the truth it was for real and not a put on. “Well…I’ll enjoy the ride while it lasts for sure.” She says while shooting me a look that suggests that many things are going to be tested the whole time we’re together for a while longer until she’s absolutely sure.
Once well rested, a quick dance or two, and a better idea of what’s in store she was ready for more and like the proverbial “Kid in the Candy Store”, she made it her mission to explore anything and everything she could that night. Her dynamic personality was winning her friends and playmates everywhere she turned. The sexy blonde with the great body and personality was wanted by everyone. I think she knew the name of every single person there that night and may have fucked them all as well. By three in the morning she was done. She’d been fucked so hard she was raw and a little bow legged. On the way back to my place she couldn’t say thank you often enough. I poured her into bed where she fell fast asleep. The next morning I made her breakfast. Poached eggs, toast, Canadian bacon, juice and coffee never tasted as good as they did after a night like that.
Breakfast turned into lunch, then dinner and a few months later Lynn moved in with me permanently. She became the “Belle of the Ball” to the Lifestyle in record time and in the process we fell passionately and deeply in love as we learned more about each other. Our approach was not the normal way people get into this lifestyle but few people had the long history and friendship we had before we entered in to all of this together. Everyone wanted to know her and play with her. Women wanted to look like her and be her. If she changed her hairstyle or color women changed theirs to look like it. If we weren’t at the club on the weekend we were at several parties that people were constantly inviting us to. It was exhausting us but Lynn, for the first time in her life, was truly happy and living the life she felt she should have always had.
One Sunday while sprawled naked on the couch in the living room recovering from the activities of the night before we started talking. Between sips of our Mimosa’s and bites of our bacon and eggs we began to compare notes on our life together at that point.
The months were rapidly combining into a year and we had become so close in so many ways it surprised even two jaded souls like us. Neither of us had planned on getting married ever again yet I found myself suggesting just that. Lynn didn’t take me seriously at first but as soon as she realized I was she quickly said “Yes”.
In an effort to bring a little more order to the chaos that had become our life we decided to buy a new house.
Swingers are very particular people when it comes to buying houses. So much so there are realtors out there these days that specialize in dealing with the needs of people in the Lifestyle. Most people look for how a house that functions for a family and its needs. Swingers also look at how it functions for a party and proximity to other events and Lifestyle needs. So we bought a house with a large gourmet kitchen, a big, private, backyard with a pool and plenty of space to party in. It became customary to come home after work, get naked, open a bottle of wine and relax in the pool for an hour or so before starting dinner and getting on with the rest of our evening.
To break the house in we had our wedding in the backyard. A small ceremony with primarily family and a short reception afterwards that gave us about an hour to re-set the house for the real reception. The house was then filled with about sixty of our Lifestyle “friends with benefits” that quickly brought a whole new meaning to “kissing the bride”. A vanilla couple missed the first reception and arrived in the middle of the second one and found us all naked in the pool when they walked in and gamely got naked and stayed for several hours having the time of their lives.
They didn’t venture away from each other but did manage to fuck themselves silly in the pool several times before they left. (For the next year or so they would tell anyone who’d listen about their adventures at a “Swinger’s wedding”)
The party lasted until dinnertime the next day and delayed our honeymoon by a full day. We managed to consume twenty-five hundred dollars worth of wine, beer, spirits, steaks, ribs, brat’s, seafood and other assorted grilled meats and appetizers along with whatever everyone else brought over a forty-eight hour period. That and other parties we started having there became legendary. They’re still talked about in Lifestyle circles and are still the type of parties people expect when they come to our (and other) parties today.
One of the first parties we had at that house after our wedding was Lynn’s birthday party. I had already become accustomed to her being whisked away with one or more people early on in an evening. I could always tell where she was by the sound of her orgasm and check in on her now and then when I wasn’t busy myself. On this evening several of the women grabbed her and drug her into the bedroom, removed her clothes, lit candles, laid her on the bed and took turns eating her pussy, sucking on her nipples and putting their own cunts in her face for her to lick and alternating the positions each time they all came until everyone had made it all the way around her body. It was a sea of feminine beauty and erotica. Women fuck each other differently than men. Grinding a leg in a humping motion against a lover’s pussy or pussy to pussy contact always gets a hot, passionate response by the recipient. It’s so intimate to watch, it was incredible. I spent the whole time taking pictures of the scene and gamely staying out of the way. Our “Wedding Album” still draws the “Man, I wish I had been there!” remarks from people who see them.
While all of that was happening several of the guys and me (between taking pics) hatched a plan to give her a present of our own. After she had come out of the bedroom, had a drink, a cigarette and relaxed for a moment we all stood in front of her, took off our clothes and revealed all of our cocks with bows tied around them telling her she had to unwrap each gift and enjoy it however she wanted to. She willingly sucked us all hard then we laid her on a mattress and began filling all of her holes and sucking on her nipples until she couldn’t cum anymore and then we tossed her into the pool to cool off. She was too tired and hot to protest. Truth be told, she confided in me later it actually felt refreshing and was glad we did it. Everyone kept going that night until we were spent and no one was in shape to go home so...
The next morning we woke up to find a house full of people. We all worked up an appetite having some morning sex and then made breakfast. Massive piles of eggs, pancakes, hash browns, bacon, sausage; mimosas and coffee were consumed in record time.
The beginning of our new life together started with a bang and is still going strong.
PORK CHOPS WITH CRANBERRY AND THYME PAN SAUCE
2 5-6 oz Boneless Pork Chops or Loin Chops
½ Cup Medium Bodied Red or Dry White Wine
1/3 Cup Craisins or dried Cranberries or Cherries
3 Scallions (green onions) finely sliced and include the green parts
1 small Shallot finely diced
1Tblsp Chopped Fresh Thyme
Melt butter in heavy medium skillet over medium heat.
Sprinkle pork with Salt & Pepper on both sides and saute’ pork until brown on both sides (approx. 5 minutes per side) the transfer the pork to a plate and deglaze the skillet with the wine and be sure to scrape all of the brown bits off.
Add the cranberries, scallions and shallot to the wine, reduce the heat and simmer for about three minutes.
Return pork to pan and cook until done adding a little more wine if needed to keep the liquid fluid.
Rachel had returned to our house several days after our initial meeting still armed with her notepad and tape recorder looking casually sexy in a gauzy full length skirt affixed to her hips and a crop topped shirt and wedged sandals. She also brought three bottles of wine and her friend Victoria. Vic, as she liked to be called, was a delightful little blonde ball of energy dressed in one of those tops with the built-in bra’s every woman (including Lynn) wears these days, tight black spandex boy shorts and short heeled black mules. She couldn’t be any taller than five-one or two and the muscles in her legs were both intimidating and sexy at the same time. We liked her immediately.
While I pulled the salmon filets out of the smoker and the asparagus off of the grill Rachel and I talked about the women’s side of the lifestyle as Vic helped Lynn finish making the salad. As we ate and finished our dessert of chilled pears marinated in Muscato wine Lynn and I laid out the social options available to swingers these days. The girls were more than a little curious about those things so we planned a little “field trip” for the following weekend to bar hop a couple of different events.
As we cleared everything from the table before retreating, once again, to the living room the girls thanked us for the dinner. Vic came over and threw her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss. I don’t know why but my immediate reaction was something I don’t normally do with someone I just met a little over an hour ago. I buried my hand inside her shorts and slide my finger around her clit. I was pleasantly surprised to find a piercing through her hood and pressed gently against it. Not only did she not respond in a negative way but she leaned back slightly, smiled at me and kissed me again before casually pulling away and heading towards the living room to Lynn and Rachel.
I pretty much knew when I saw Vic at the front door she was probably there to learn something I couldn’t provide for her right away tonight. That “thank-you” also told me that later this evening…that will be an entirely different issue. So I simply smiled and followed them in to the warm amber light of the living room for the beginning of the evening.
It wasn’t too long into our conversation before my suspicions were realized and the girls disappeared into the bedroom, giggling the whole way, for an extended period of time.
During that time I went and checked e-mail and found one from an editor for one of the magazines I write for. He had been contacted by a TV station here in town who wanted to interview me for an upcoming segment about swinging. He gave me all of the contact info and said if I was interested to give this reporter a call. I was about to respond back when Vic appeared beside me naked and frazzled looking. The girls had done their job and blown her mind in record time. Now she wanted something else.
She had an amazing little body with ab’s most guys would love to have. Without saying a word she straddles my lap facing me and begins kissing me. The thought of answering that e-mail went right out of my head as I reach under her arms, stand up and she wraps her legs around my waist. I bring my hands down to her ass and grab hold as I carry her out the door, down the hall and to the candle lit master bedroom. As I lay her back on the bed next to Lynn and Rachel, I lose my pants and slide into Vic’s amazing pussy. She’s small and tight with strong muscles that grab and suck a cock deeply into her. I’m lightly nibbling on her nipples when I sense an ass nearby. I glance up to see Rachel sitting down on Vic’s face as Lynn moves over to where Rachel is so Rachel can eat her pussy. Vic’s tongue wastes no time in finding Rachel’s clit and I’m close enough I can send mine deep into her slit as well. It’s hot, wet and sweet and Rachel begins to shake uncontrollably but keeps working on Lynn’s pussy. I can tell this from the muffled moans she’s making. I can’t see a damned thing in front of me but Rachel’s pussy and ass but I can still tell what’s going on.
Vic’s stomach is taking on a life of its own and she begins to lurch in every direction possible as she gasps and starts to shout. We continue on for what seems like an hour or more (it was probably only fifteen minutes but…) when suddenly… One by one we’re all beginning to cum hard. First Rachel shooting a river of cum all over Vic’s face and the bed, then Lynn and Vic and I are neck and neck behind her as we all explode and then fall off of each other onto the bed. Between gasps of air and laughter we’re done.
Once we’ve regained our composure and cleaned up some we head back to the living room for drinks and conversation, still naked but happy and warm. The girls have more questions than they did earlier and in the process of answering them Lynn and I suggested some possibilities for our little “field trip” the next weekend so they can understand some of this stuff first hand.
During our talking I mention the e-mail I had read while they all were in the bedroom playing and learning the “in’s and out’s” of being bi. The girls thought it would be a great idea. I still wasn’t too sure myself. I’ve had less than pleasant and honorable experiences with the press, even though I’m technically a part of it. As it turns out Vic is an acquaintance of the reporter in question and thinks she’d do a good job with it. Lynn and I looked at each other and reluctantly agreed to at least talk to the reporter. The next day we sent the reporter a reply… then the wheels came off…
There’s something mind-bendingly surreal about lying in a bed of the Critical Care Unit at a hospital with all these people running around your room doing what they do to insure you’re still alive after a serious surgery. Add to this chaos you’re watching yourself as you’re coming out of a drug induced stupor being interviewed on TV while all of this is happening. I was in that very situation at the moment.
As luck would have it, only Lynn and I paid any attention to it.
A few days after the interview with the reporter I had another of the several heart attacks which have plagued me the past half dozen or so years. Something that would postpone our “field trip” for a bit then while I, yet again, recovered.
The only thing that kept me from having yet another heart attack was the drugs being poured into me through a variety of IV’s as I watched my worst fear become realized on a 21” TV bolted to the ceiling while tubes and wires were going in and out of my body.
The interview was rapidly giving me the same feeling one might get by being bludgeoned like a baby seal while the world at large watched and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The only difference (and possibly saving grace) was I was on some pretty serious drugs. The “positive” look at the Lifestyle promised my wife and I by a cute local TV reporter had been reduced to little more than two several minute segments of poorly edited half thoughts and incomplete statements with the news anchor resorting to playground innuendo between the segments rather than be an objective, professional, neutral party. I had hoped this would be a different experience. That’s what I get for hoping I guess.
When you’ve been in this lifestyle for as long as I have it’s not uncommon for people to seek you out and ask you questions about it. The questions asked by people inside the lifestyle, regardless of the length of time they’ve been involved with it, are usually good ones. They have a real purpose in asking a particular question that might add meaning to their lives good or bad. The ones outside the lifestyle generally turn out to be a nightmare of vindictive, ratings designed attacks. Even when you think you’ve taken the necessary precautions to prevent that from happening. (The exception to that, interestingly enough, is when you’re talking to college students, but that’s a conversation for later.) More often than not people outside our lifestyle have already made up their minds about this subject so they’re looking more for some sort of entertainment value at your expense than any actual fact. Much the same way people seem to love to hear and read all of the awful, negative things about celebrities, famous people (or the neighbor around the corner) so they can convince themselves in some small way they’re superior to the rest of the world.
The Swinging Lifestyle and the media have never gotten along well and there’s a huge level of mistrust between the two (mostly undeserved on the swingers side of the scale) but both seemingly try to play nice in public. As I lay there listening to the anchor’s juvenile comments coupled with the bad editing, the disappointment I felt was indescribable. It was anger, pity (not for myself), a sense of feeling violated (maybe even raped), and resignation. I’d been fucked and not properly asked…yet again.
A needed, positive, fair look at a lifestyle many people incorrectly think they understand (which was what we were told it would be) was reduced to a chopped up story of …nothing…that did little to shed light on the misconceptions people harbor about our lifestyle (or much else for that matter).
A friend of ours, who happens to be a psychologist and marriage/relationship counselor, had been asked to give her professional insight on the Lifestyle for the program. Mia is no slouch and knows what she’s talking about. She has a very distinguished and prosperous practice. She is well versed in all manner of lifestyle choices and can articulate the pluses and minuses of all of them quite intelligently. One would have hoped they would have treated her expertise with respect yet… She was subjected to the same poor editing as I was and left her input, sadly, almost laughable. The only person allowed to completely finish a sentence was the psychiatrist they had included for the opposing opinion to give the story “balance”…hmmmm.
Mia and I contacted the reporter for the story who interviewed us independently and received different explanations as to why things ended up the way they did. Mia was told it had to do with the fact the segment was being aired in the 5:00 hour and the producers felt it was too early in the day and children might be watching…a truly bogus reason. The reporter gave me a different reason saying it was simply an issue of production editing and scripting for the time allowed to the segment. To some degree I’ll buy that except for this… since it’s her reputation on the line with the story, one would think she’d have more control on those issues than she professed to have. My guess is she lacked the courage to stand up for a story she presumably, believed in and backed down off of for…a steady paycheck.
All in all, a story that had the potential to be interesting and insightful turned out to be nothing special. It was just a story that took up space on a second rate local news program.
The young reporter missed an opportunity to lend positive insight to several hundred thousand viewers locally who are part of the Lifestyle and help her career. (It’s interesting to note here that recent studies have conservatively estimated that roughly ten percent of the adult population in the U.S. alone are involved in swinging to one degree or another these days. Be it voyeuristically, soft swap, full swap or whatever category of involvement people try to compartmentalize themselves in to these days. Either way…it’s a huge number.)
The professional and financial fall-out will be determined in the future as to how credible or well received her reports are with viewers when other “touchy” situations cross her path.
This isn’t to say the reporter was the “bad guy” on this story, just cowardly. I still believe her sincerity. She and her cameraman were professional and sensitive to our requests and lighted us in a special way so that no one was “outed” during the interview. We had spent several days just prior to my surprise visit to the hospital with them, shared a meal or two together (that I cooked) and confided a great many things to each other that had little or nothing to do with the subject at hand. For that I thank them both and still will consider them friends. The issue that made a so-so piece of journalism worse was the station and the producers allowing the news anchor to let her mouth run amuck with ill-informed, un-professional and personal comments. The last I heard, a journalist’s job was to objectively report the news…not to make it (Geraldo Rivera aside).
A short time later because of this interview we were contacted by several national news organizations and “talk shows” who wanted to interview us as well. All promising to be fair and impartial in their reporting (even though one big national talk show attempted right from the get-go to coach scripted responses from us over the phone trying to get us to say what they had already made up their minds they wanted us to say in advance…we hung up on them.). When we made it clear we wouldn’t agree to that unless we were allowed to see the final edit before airing the segment they all disappeared.
The subject of swinging seldom gets an honest shake in most media avenues unless it can be portrayed as decadent, naughty, perverse and/or socially corruptible. In other words… it’ll bring in viewers and readers thanks to sexy, but bogus, teasers and motives. “People would turn the page or change the channel if swingers turned out to be normal” is their way of thinking on the subject.
The majority of the TV and print journalists (even the ones who are in the Lifestyle), who are considered by the general public to be “serious” and above reproach, won’t touch the subject of swinging/ The Lifestyle. The fear of killing their careers with the powers above them or loosing viewers/readers in the future throws their usual objectivity in the closet quickly.
Any time you see a commercial for a show about “Swinging”, “The Lifestyle” etc. on TV or most any other media… treat it as entertainment and not take it seriously. It won’t answer any questions you might have. If anything, it might scare the hell out of you (which is what many of them try to do…like a well known TV “psychologist” who wanted to interview us with ulterior motives.).
Bottom line…these days, seek your info on this (or any other) lifestyle from sources who know what they’re talking about and don’t have another reason for talking about it. Objective information is hard to come by as it is. When it comes to swinging, it’s nearly impossible.
SMOKED SALMON (My Way)
1 Cup Kosher Salt
¾ Cup Sugar
1/3 Cup Coarsely Cracked Black Pepper
2 Lg Bunches of Fresh Dill
1 4lb Side of Fresh Salmon with Skin and Pin Bones Removed
Mix contents of sugar, salt & pepper in a large bowl and set aside.
Lay out a large piece of plastic wrap on a baking sheet and place enough of the mixture on it to cover that side of the fish. Add a few sprigs of the dill on top then place the Salmon on it.
Then add more dill and the rest of the mixture on the top to fully cover the Salmon then wrap it completely and tightly in the plastic wrap.
Lay a second baking sheet on top with 2-3 bricks wrapped in foil on the baking sheet to weigh it down and then place it in the refrigerator for 24-36 hours turning and flipping the fish occasionally.
Remove from refrigerator and rinse the mixture completely off and pat it dry then either in a stove top smoker or regular smoker smoke the Salmon at between 200 and 250 degrees for thirty to forty-five minutes. Serve with bread, crackers, cream cheese, crème fraiche or a mustard dill sauce
THE SUN RISES…AGAIN
When a phone rings at three AM it’s seldom news you want to hear. When it’s a phone in a hotel room three thousand miles away from anyone you know (or think you know) it’s downright disturbing.
I hadn’t told anyone where I was going when I left but the important people in my life always knew how to get a hold of me if they needed to in an emergency and had a pretty good idea of where I’d be this time of year, knew my cell phone number, my e-mail address and a few other things but very little else. This hotel and this room number wasn’t one of those ways they could find me. Most people I know head for the usual places. Jamaica, the Bahamas, St. Martins, Aruba or someplace like that. Me…I go to a little heard of place in the Leeward Islands called Guadeloupe. I talk about this place a lot. The people are my kind of people. I’ll land at Pointe-a-Pitre International Airport which is little more than a landing strip in the jungle with a small one story airport and Air France 747’s mixed with smaller aircraft and “puddle jumpers” flanking the two runways. I’ll have a quick but pleasant conversation with the French speaking customs agent, get my passport stamped, have my luggage inspected, get my rental car, a snack and be on the road in less than twenty minutes.
From the airport to the town of Sainte Anne (one of two towns on the island I would call photographic or noteworthy…Basse Terre, the island capital being the other) is quick but beautiful as it winds along the coast on the Atlantic side of the island to the hotel. After less than an hour from the time I had landed I’ll be perched on a barstool prepared to forget the world exists for however long I’m here. It’s my secret place of sanity and I guard its location from everyone or so I had thought until this minute.
So here I am flailing around in the dark trying to find a phone I’m not sure I want to answer while the few remaining brain cells left over from killing most of a bottle of tequila before bed tries desperately to grasp the situation and the possibilities it brings as I fall out of bed naked and disoriented. Then it hit me. Not the reason the phone was ringing, but the phone itself. (Note to self: DO NOT grab the phone cord in an effort to keep from falling out of bed)
As I lay there in the dark feeling the knot on my head swelling I hear a faint “hello? Hello?... coming from the receiver on the floor a foot or so away from my throbbing head.
My mangled head and the tequila have diminished my motor skills to about the same level as a baby trying to get their hand to their mouth for the first time. The only difference being, a baby probably doesn’t feel like they’ve got a block of cement on their head.
When the phone receiver finally makes it to my ear and I mumble a “hello” I hear a sultry southern female voice cheerfully say “Hi luv! Did I wake you?”
Oh God…It’s Constance.
I’m not in the mood for this shit right now. The voice on the other side of this phone tends to have a lot of unwanted baggage attached to it (Even if it is Louis Vuitton). I want to unwind…not step into a four act highly charged drama with this woman right this minute and with Con…it’s seldom a casual visit and usually costs me something.
(Usually my sanity)
My head suddenly hurts worse from the thought of the possibilities that could befall me if this is more than a friendly phone call. Knowing Con…it isn’t.
Constance is, on the surface, most every mans ideal woman. Blonde, tall, lean and beautiful with a few kinks in her closet sexually to keep things interesting but high maintenance enough to drive you to distraction and send you to the poorhouse quickly.
The socialite daughter of a prominent and powerful southern politician/ attorney who’s learned a thing or two about manipulation as a means to getting what she wants at any cost (which is usually anything she wants at that particular moment and adrenalin charged sex on her rules with a little cloak and dagger relationship or two thrown in to make it interesting followed by a lot of pain and confusion.). She has a phonebook full of ex-husbands she was never faithful to and has no remorse about it. She never had kids because she was too selfish to give up the time needed for them. In other words…she can be a gorgeous royal pain in the ass you’re not sure you can trust but stupidly like having her around from time to time thinking you’re in control and won’t get burned. That generally proves to be completely wrong and the kiss of death for you but still, you can’t help being drawn to her one way or the other when you meet her. Most guys, in spite of the red flags and other warning signals she puts out get sucked into her world to one degree or another now and then.
Hell, I almost married her once.
Now here she is on the other end of this phone and I’m starting to get nervous.
“Are you busy?”
“Well…I was, like most people at this hour, was trying to get some sleep Con, what’s up?”
“I was wondering if I could come up and talk to you about a couple of things.”
Panic… no strike that, out and out fear, suddenly takes over my whole body, “You’re here? In the hotel?! How did you know where I was?” as my mind raced I looked around to make sure there wasn’t a large sticky web strung up behind me when I wasn’t looking.
“As I recall…I know a thing or two about you and your habits, remember? Can I come up?”
“Sure” followed by a click and silence on the other end. It would have been pointless to say no. I ruled out getting dressed, she wouldn’t give a shit if I was or not. I danced quickly around the room picking things up with my head pounding and looking for a possible escape route if I need it when there’s a knock on the door.
When I opened the door…there was everything I expected to see and more. There was Con standing in the hall wearing a white, nearly see-through linen dress with only three of the dozen or so buttons holding the dress together just below her tits and a pair of heels all accentuating what seems to be a newly acquired tan. The dress I expected albeit not like that, the heels and the tan were something new for her. She had been constantly lectured as a child to play down her height because, according to her mother “Six feet tall is tall enough for a girl” and she should “Never stand taller than the man you’re with.” and Con always listened to her mother (sort of). Yet here she stood looking amazing with me at eye level to what appears to be a recently purchased pair of tits. I could only imagine who paid for them and what else has changed with her since our path’s last crossed.
“So what did the other guy look like?” she grins while touching my head as she walks in past me. Kissing hello right now would be a tedious formality with no necessary benefit as far as she’s concerned.
“What makes you think it was a man?” I ask trying to sound like the complete smartass I usually end up becoming around her.
“With you hun…one can never tell. Can they?” she shoots back grinning from ear to ear as she reclines back on the edge of my bed while throwing one leg to the side and letting her dress fall open to reveal what I had already suspected…the dress, the shoes and three diamonds dangling on a chain from the ring in her navel are all she’s wearing. I have to admit right here and now. No matter how exasperated I’ve ever gotten with her she still has the all time hottest looking cunt a woman can have. I don’t know why that is…but it is and she’s gently waving that freshly shaved slit around making sure she gets my complete attention right from the start.
“You’re a little underdressed for a late night drive so I’m guessing you’re staying at this hotel…right?” I ask while stepping closer between her legs and gently run a finger down the lips of her slit and enjoy how soft she is.
“Maybe” she purrs in that southern drawl of hers while sitting up a little and starts to grab a hold of my cock and moves her head towards the family jewels as they begin to rise to the occasion. (She seems intent on kicking this little unexpected meeting into high gear right from the start. I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet…if ever.)
“What’s up Con?” I ask as I grab hold of her hair and hold her head back a moment.
She gives me a semi-exasperated look and relaxes slightly before launching into “There are a few questions that have been bugging the shit out of me for a while now. I have this need to get them answered” she semi-whispers/says as she moves as forward as my grip will allow her to go and flicks as much of her tongue around the head of my cock as she can reach.
“So you figured out where I was, even though we haven’t spoken in what, two years, jumped on a plane and flew all the way here to ask me some earth shattering question that you suddenly can’t sleep without the answer to?”
“Um-hum” she mumbles as I let her head finally move forward and she swallows my cock right down to my balls (a new trick I see).
“So what’s so goddamned important that you had to do this right here right now at this hour?” I ask.
She measured her words while licking my shaft as her mouth slides back off my cock with “I was laying in bed the other night thinking about when we were together and all of the stuff we did, and didn’t do, in and out of bed.”
“The more I thought about it, the more I wondered why we didn’t do more than we did. The more I thought about that it started to bug the shit out of me that we hadn’t. I knew where you’d be this time of year so I popped over here. I was going to surprise you in the morning but all these questions kept bouncing around in my head and wouldn’t let me sleep so I called you.”
“Well, for one is…how come you didn’t take me to any of those parties you’re always writing about? You’re well known for your adventures and your swinger friends Doc but we never did any of that. In fact I don’t think I met any of those people the whole time we were together…why was that?” as she looked up at me with an inquisitive/ somewhat pissed look on her face.
“Oh…is that all? I thought it was something really important (truth is I wouldn’t subject anyone in the Lifestyle to her brand of insanity. That’s a path best left not taken). That could have been handled a lot quicker and cheaper over the phone don’t you think?” I shoot back half laughing at the whole line of thought. I’m not sure she’s telling me that’s the truth of her question yet (is there more?) or that she’s going to like the answers to all of this if it is. It’s got all of the signs of a long, probably painful, night regardless. “I’m afraid to ask what the other questions are.”
She leans back on her hands while giving me the most seductive look I’ve ever seen her give but says nothing. I chuckle and push her back flat on the bed. Her eyes are flashing playfully as she finally says “Maybe so, but think of all the fun you’d miss doing things like this that way.” She smiles back with that smile of hers that always spells trouble and that tells me there’s more to this line of questioning than she’s letting on at the moment which makes me both curious and concerned.
She spreads her legs further and I reach for her pussy to find it sopping wet (another new experience, it used to be difficult to get her that wet) which made me even stiffer while I climb on the bed and on top of her as the head of my cock hits that wetness and I slide into her pussy for what will be a very long ride.
The walls of her cunt tighten up around my shaft to make sure I don’t go anywhere soon.
Con was never an overly animated lover but when she’s getting what she wants she lets you know it with her face. Her eyes begin to look trance like and her mouth falls slightly open. Her breathing becomes more intense but still keeps the sound level below the radar. I’m seeing all of those familiar traits as she grinds back into me. (It used to remind me of fucking a dying corpse coming back to life.) The only sounds you can hear is her faint breathing and the ocean crashing on the beach a short distance from us outside the balcony doors and the gentle slap of our bodies meeting as we thrust towards each other while she gets wetter and wetter.
Everything is quickly building until she’ll grab me and pull me to her as she squirts gallons of her own cum between us as I keep pounding reaching my own orgasm then she’ll suddenly let go, lean back and squirt my cock out of her pussy. Round one is done and for her that was just foreplay. Now she’ll want to get down to some serious sex. (For a seemingly reserved person her sexual enthusiasm for the things she likes went unmatched for quite some time until another woman entered my life (the gorgeous woman I’m married to now) and proved her to be little more than a talented beginner. Still…even when she ticked me off she made it interesting sexually.)
She rolls off the bed, gives me a smile and heads for the bathroom saying “I have to pee.”
I’ve learned from experience to follow her in. Round two is, apparently, already about to start without the usual break period she always seemed to need.
She’s already naked in the shower when I get there leaning forward with her outstretched arms and hands on the wall as if she’s about to get frisked. Her legs are spread wide and that lustful look has returned to her face as she looks over her shoulder at me. I step in beside her and tease her clit with my fingers before sliding two of them into her pussy and back to her g-spot where I massage the area until I see her knees start to buckle. I quickly step back behind her and drive my cock into her pussy as she lets loose of a long hot stream of piss between us that crash’s to the shower floor and down the drain like a perfect yellow waterfall. I cum hard inside her as the stream of piss continues to flow hard out of her. She’s shaking so hard she can hardly still stand up and just as the flow of piss subsides I pull my cock out of her pussy and ram it hard into her slightly lowered ass causing her to gasp and look back at me again a little shocked but receptive to the idea as she begins to pound hard against me taking all of my cock deep inside her relentlessly as her hand dives into her pussy working her clit and urethra in hard frantic motions until we both cum again then she stands up causing my cock to withdraw, turns around and drops to her knees in front of me in the shower where a giant stream of my own piss begins to flow and I spray her entire face and body which she happily rubs all over and into her hair. A moment later…we’re both done. I turn the water in the shower on, help her to her feet and reach for the soap. We wash each other clean. Then I wrapped her in a bathrobe and put her to bed. Neither of us seems to be in any condition to talk right now and part of me is glad for that. It takes a matter of seconds and Con is fast asleep.
A few hours later I find myself still wide awake and sitting on the balcony with a Cuban cigar in one hand and the rest of the bottle of tequila in the other watching the sun rise out of the ocean as Bob James and David Sanborn’s “Maputo” plays quietly behind me from the CD player. Sleeping at this point is an afterthought. The questions I think Con is going to ask are bouncing around in my head. The breeze is warm, the salt spray mixes with the aroma of freshly cut fruit from an unseen kitchen nearby and everything seems so calm. Even the faint conversations in French from the hotel staff heard off in the distance seem soothing. “If I were alone I’d be painting right now.” I think to myself as I imagine the smell of linseed oil and paint thinner in my lungs. I look over my shoulder and see Con sound asleep in the bed I’m supposed to be asleep in and return my gaze through the palm trees to the water in front of me knowing I’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do of some form or another in a while.
1750 ml Bottle of Tequila
3 Cups Lime Juice
11/3 Cup Triple Sec
1 Cup Orange Juice
1 12 oz Can of Lemon Lime Soda
Mix together in a large pitcher and serve over ice with Kosher Salt on the rim. Serves approx. 12
The seasons are changing back where I live and becoming fall. The days are shorter and cooler yet no cooler than where I’m sitting right this minute. The desert never seems to get very cold but still, I’ve always felt the need to get away, back to the water, for a while this time of year. It’s time for me to recharge the batteries for next year. The light and the surroundings here always inspire me and I’ll suddenly get the urge to take a running start at being creative before while I can. It’s easy to find inspiration here. The people, especially the women, have this huge lust for life here and let their passions run as wild as their inhibitions can take them causing them to wear little, if any, clothing. Clothes seem more of an inconvenience than a necessity around here for most people. They’re so exhibitionistic it doesn’t take much to get someone to pose for a painting or picture. By the time I leave here all of the chips for my camera will be full of people I’ll have met and fucked plus been allowed to witness and record the sexual adventures we all shared. My journal will be filled with descriptions of my latest exploits along with addresses and phone numbers of newfound playmates and friends expecting a visit the next time I’m in their part of the world. I don’t trust cell phones to survive so I keep all of the important stuff in my journal I call my “brain” which I guard at all costs. I will have page after page of e-mail addresses and screen names of people who will want to trade pictures of those sexual adventures we shared so they can post them on their profile page at some adult or swinger site on the Internet. Something I end up having to do myself on a very regular basis these past few years. It wasn’t always like this though…
Back in the early and mid-sixties my family and I were living in California when I was a kid, Redondo Beach to be exact. It was a golden time for me and would be the cauldron of experiences that percolated around me and significantly influenced the direction I have taken in this life. Some subtle, some overt but all necessary and welcomed, even if the significance of them all wouldn’t be understood right away.
Like any other kid that’s had to move in life the first thing you try and do once you get wherever it is you’re going is make friends. I was social enough as a kid that making friends was relatively easy. As often is the case in those situations the friends you first make aren’t necessarily the ones you keep for long. They enter your life for a moment or two pass on an introduction or experience then fade away to be replaced by someone else a little more like you or with another key for your journey. That cycle would continue for me over the next year or so. I would finally make some friends that made sense to me but found myself in the uncomfortable situation of also becoming the juvenile version of the “Welcome Wagon” when some new kid showed up in class. (Looking back on it I was giving the Karma back others had given me earlier.) One of those kids was a guy named Ray. He moved to my school the last month or so of the school year in 1965. Ray lived down the hill from me across the street from our school bus stop with his dad in a rented house on a big lot full of trees. Even though it was just the two of them Ray lived in the detached garage in the back which was set up like a giant studio apartment. We’d hang out in his “room” and listen to records all the time or I’d listen to him play his steel guitar and read the issues of Playboy his dad would give him after he was done with them. The pictures were obviously impressive to an eleven year old boy but the nerd in me wanted to read the articles and catalog the cartoons, jokes and illustrations. I wanted right then and there to be an illustrator for Playboy.
Shortly after I had met him, I was sitting around Ray’s looking at another issue of Playboy and caught the Interview in the September ’64 issue. I looked at the three picture panel at the bottom of the page and was shocked/horrified/confused to see some old man in a swim suit sitting around a big table on the beach with a bunch of topless women while he laughed with them and waived his arm around gesturing at God knows what while a cigarette dangled from his fingers. The title was An Interview with Henry Miller. Who???!!! So I began to read the article. I wanted to know how this old, ugly man was getting all of these women…and naked no less! I found out he was a writer and read about his recent obscenity trial for a book he had written long before I was born and had been banned in the US all of this time and him being hailed as a literary hero and icon etc. All the while fuck, shit hole and goddamn falling out of his mouth with every other word. After finishing the article I was…even more confused. What made this old foulmouthed guy so important? Mark Twain said lots of things without cussing so why did this guy say those things? There was no one I could really ask any of the questions I had. They either, wouldn’t know because they’re my age and were as clueless as I was, or they’d ground me, kill me (or both) for reading Playboy in the first place. The Internet was still an experiment in a lab somewhere largely limited to a bunch of geeks with pocket protectors and was about twenty years away from being available to everyone and Encyclopedias only had scant information about such people so I had to tuck the questions into the back of my head for a while.
It bugged me too much to let it go for long though. One day I sat down and wrote him a letter asking him things like how? Why? And so on. The article in Playboy had said the pictures were taken on the beach down from his Pacific Palisades home. I knew where that was and was just young, dumb, and brazen enough to think that was enough information to get a letter to him so I addressed it:
Mr. Henry Miller
Pacific Palisades, California
To my surprise a few weeks later I got a letter back from him basically asking me why someone so young (maybe the pencil and penmanship gave me away…who knows) would be concerned about such things just yet and congratulating me on being brave enough to ask.
I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I did nothing except keep the letter and envelope. It had a return address on it and I would need it if I could think of something else to ask.
With my “research” in Playboy at Ray’s until he and his dad suddenly and quietly moved away one night during the end of the summer and the occasional illegal appropriation of magazines like Mr., Bachelor, Gent and others from Vic’s Liquors on the corner I developed quite a library of information on all things sexual, hip, trendy and guaranteed to make me popular with girls over the next year or two. Or so I thought.
Unfortunately girls my age were hardly interested in that sort of stuff just yet and the older girls thought I was more a novelty than someone to be taken seriously. Still I did manage to see a few girls naked, finger a twat or two and get my first blowjob before scoring the hottest girl in school as a girlfriend and starting some serious sexual experimentation all before I was thirteen.,
Due to my new found knowledge I knew what “Wife Swapping” and “Swinging” was. When I overheard my parents discussing “Key Parties” my ears perked right up. I felt like a spy eavesdropping on a top secret conversation between two key government officials. I felt like 007 would have been proud at that moment. I was always on the lookout for new clues and experiences via my parents, of all people, after that.
The summer of 1968 found me sitting on the beach a few blocks down from my house with my transistor radio spewing out Simon and Garfunkel songs along with the Byrds and Buffalo Springfield staring at the water with a box of oil pastels and a sketchbook and occasionally drawing the girls as they laid on the sand getting tans while I planned what I was going to do in High School next fall or at my girlfriend’s house while I, hopefully, would get an opportunity to improve my skills at putting on condoms. Then something happened when I got home. I discovered a change was at hand. My dad was getting transferred and we suddenly moved back to Arizona. Almost immediately I found myself back to square one…again.
(HENRY AND ME)
High School was…High School. Especially for a freshman nobody knew. Most people look at it is as a coming of age period. The problem for me was that I had already cum…several times and not by my own hand. The experiences in California had advanced me sexually beyond many kids my age and the things that were of interest to the people I was meeting were worlds away from where I felt I was headed. I didn’t feel I fit in right away and the few friends I had made in the short time I’d been there so far were hopelessly lost adolescents and the girls were indifferent to a, somewhat, geeky looking stranger.
Fortunately I met (or re-met) Jill. Her dad had been my grandparent’s landscaper while he was going to college to get his teaching degree. He would bring her along when he knew my brother, sister and I were going to be there and we’d play games or hang out in the tree house in the backyard while he worked. Once we moved to California I don’t remember seeing her when we’d come back for visits during the summers over the next five or six years.
Jill and I had a first period class together. I didn’t recognize her but thought she was cute and she didn’t have a clue as to who I was but we made eye contact that first morning that seemed familiar. I don’t think either of us could tell you why but when we saw each other and had barely sat down next to one another we started behaving like old friends and ended up talking a lot each morning at school for the first few days of the beginning of the year. There was an immediate connection and I felt like I’d known her my whole life which was bugging the hell out of me in the back of my mind. It wasn’t until I went with her after class one day to drop something off to her dad that I realized who she was and that he was one of my teachers. It still took a little more talking before the light went on in my head as to who he was and why I knew him. He thought it was funny…I was mortified.
Even so, I sensed she was a kindred spirit and quickly discovered over the remainder of that day her interests were very similar to mine and I wasn’t in a hurry to end what seemed to be a potentially interesting relationship over who her dad was. We liked the same movies, music, books, food, art and, eventually, the same curiosity about sex.
One afternoon while her parents were gone we were in her room having a very serious discussion about Iron Butterfly with “Inna Gadda Da Vida” pounding out of her phonograph while the smoke from a stick of Sandalwood incense floated around us. I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching her semi-dance around the room to the music while she talked. Then, without any notice, she walked over and gave me a kiss. That wasn’t really anything new at this point. We’d been kissing so much since day one our lips were raw most of the time but this time seemed different. More intimate. I don’t know what possessed me to do it but as she stepped closer I reached up under her brown and red checked mini dress and grabbed her ass. She didn’t resist. Instead she started breathing harder, kissing me harder so I slid my hands inside her panties…still no resistance. I grabbed her panties and started sliding them down her legs. She started shaking but just held onto me tighter and continued to kiss me. I hadn’t felt that since several months earlier when I first saw and touched my Jr. High girlfriend naked for the first time so I felt back in familiar territory for the moment. As her panties hit the floor she shuddered then moved to get onto the bed. There was no sense of shyness about her. She lay down with her legs spread slightly apart making no attempt to hide her pussy from me while I sat next to her and just looked at me with a never before seen look of anticipation on her face as I started working a finger in and around her pussy, stroking what little hair she had there. Something I had done many times before at that point with other girls…albeit clumsily. Then she grabbed my hand and guided it where she wanted me to touch her and at what speed and pressure. Just then the song winds out of a solo and back into a more intense version of the first few bars of the song. The next thing I know she has a death grip on my wrist and she’s bouncing all over the bed like she’s having a seizure before the song crashes to the end with her going completely still and hardly breathing as she lets go of her grip on my wrist. I sat there in shock not knowing what to do while I hear the record needle click along before the arm lifts up and over then shutting the player off with a very long silent moment following it. Before I could panic she sits up like a rocket and gives me a big passionate kiss before breathlessly exclaiming “Man, that was fantastic!” and flops back on the bed. A moment later we hear the backdoor close as I’m picking her panties up off the floor. She quickly grabs them from me and stuffs them behind her just as we hear a knock on the door and her mom sticks her head in and asks “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah Mom we’re fine.” And the door closes leaving both of us in a fit of giggles. The added excitement of nearly getting caught quickly became the first area we explored and sought out new and interesting ways to push that envelope. The world became our playground…literally. Nothing was too out of bounds to try.
One afternoon, with Richie Havens singing “Motherless Child” on the radio, we took the next step and while she lay on the bed in her dress minus her panties I went down on her. I’ll admit right now I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I more than made up for that fact in earnest effort and was rewarded with my first blowjob from her while updates from the concert in a place called Woodstock were being broadcast between the songs that day. My cock had barely passed her lips and touched her tongue when Robert Plants voice began screaming over the radio as the beat pounded along with the few thrusts it took to cum. You would have had to use a stopwatch to time how long it took me to cum. Before we had barely started it was over, but I didn’t care! It was a blowjob! At least by now I knew enough to be proud about such things. I came in her mouth and all over her face. She looked amazing even though the look on her face was saying she wasn’t sure she liked that part just yet. (Eventually she loved it)
And so things progressed on into the fall, bringing an end to an adventurous summer. We both improved our sexual skills and experiences on a daily basis. I learned to really enjoy the moistness of her mouth around my cock and that I loved the taste of her pussy juices.
One evening my parents were throwing another summer party (which they did quite frequently back then). Jill and I snuck out to the shed in the backyard with half a bottle of wine we stole from the party, a blanket, and my transistor radio. That night, with Richie Havens, once again, singing “Motherless Child” from the Woodstock Soundtrack album way playing on the radio. An album I bought the day it hit the shelves almost as much for the photos as the music that showed us thousands of people frolicking in the mud naked on the cover, we lost our virginity.
My cock had entered uncharted territory. With a little fumbling, and more than one missed shot, I finally entered NIRVANA. Her legs shot open from the initial pain and loss of her “cherry” but she held on tight and the passion swelled to new heights in both of us. We made so much noise my dad came out to see what was going on and we almost got caught. If it hadn’t been for the timely entry of a cat from behind the shed we would have surely been caught, literally, with our pants down. There we were crouched down in the shed with our bare butts showing peering through a crack in the shed door hoping he’d just go back in…which he did. How appropriate it was at that moment we were hearing Crosby, Stills and Nash just then. They had just taken the stage and were talking to the audience trying to get the courage to play when David Crosby blurts out “I don’t know about you…but we’re scared shitless up here!” (The radio bleeped that part but we knew the words by heart and broke out laughing.) We sat there quietly holding each other afterwards and drank the wine and talked about Woodstock more to give us something to talk about other than what we had just done. That was an awkward conversation best left for another day at that moment. And POOF…in an instant our childhood was gone. Neither of us had any regrets, but we were innocent no more.
We would break up a short time later. Our lives would eventually go in separate directions after college, but we would run into each other now and then over the years after that. She looked even more beautiful than when we were in school. Jill married a man of great wealth and it showed. We’d always be glad to see one another and promise to call and catch up, but we never did. Then she would walk away alone.
I saw the movie Woodstock when it came out. I saw all of the people dancing naked in the rain and mud getting high, making love. I saw Richie Havens take center stage alone with just his guitar to confront four hundred thousand people and WOW them with his songs. I sat there in the dark and thought about Jill and what she and I had experienced together that summer and fall and felt a kindred spirit to those people in the mud. I was too young to be there, but on the other side of the country I had had my own festival of awakening.
The other night my wife and I were at a party drinking and playing the night away with old and new friends/ playmates. While my wife was off in a room occupied by several women and her who were doing their damndest to see who could make whom cum the hardest while being cheered on by various husbands and boyfriends. I was getting to know a rather attractive, leggy, woman in a cute little school girl skirt better in a hallway just outside an empty bedroom. Our conversation was quickly progressing from less talking to more playing which prompted me to move her from the wall she was leaning on to a vacant bed through the door behind me. Our hands began to explore each other’s bodies as we un-did, un-zipped, and un-hooked clothing in record speed while attempting to gracefully free ourselves of the confines of our attire. My fingers found the beginning of her inner thigh just above her knee and they began a long slow caress up the length of her thigh to her pussy. I could feel the heat between her legs intensifying as my fingers inched slowly closer. Suddenly her back arched off of the bed and a quick gasp escaped her mouth. I began to hear the opening bass and organ refrain of “Inna Gadda Da Vida” echoing in my head as her body began to quiver and her breathing became harder. Thirty-five years start flying away and the fifteen year old starts to return by the time I’m sliding my cock inside her. The thrusts, the movement, the experience is the man I am today, but the passion and enthusiasm is very much the boy of my youth. “Whole Lotta Love” is now playing in my head and the rhythm of my motion matching the beat in my head. Before long we both begin to cum hard and collapsed in a heap on the bed sweating and breathing heavily. We untangle ourselves from each other and just lay there for a moment giving each other kisses and “thank-you’s” before I begin to jump up off the bed and go in search of a drink and my wife. Her husband magically appears through the door just as I’m getting up and slides on to the bed next to her and quietly holds her while she continues to gain her composure once more. “It looks like you two had a good time.” He says to her.
“Fabulous!” she gasps out, still trying to catch her breath as she did so.
I exit the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen and the bar while the thoughts that had accompanied me moments earlier were not lost to me in any way. Our host (a fellow photographer) has framed photos he took of various rock stars performing in concerts. The visual imagery seems very appropriate at the moment and validates my thoughts. I stop at a photo of Jerry Garcia on stage playing away as I found myself quoting from a Grateful Dead song…”what a long, strange trip it’s been.” I thought about how all of this had begun for me and I gave Jill, that girlfriend of the past, a silent toast.
A particular summer of love, the passions of youth and great music largely shaped the beginning of who and what I am today. The time was golden as were the experiences. For all of the experiences I have had since. For all of the love and happiness I have now with my wife, family and friends, those moments have never lost their luster. They have been built upon, and always will be special, but never replaced.
Our experimentation had gone on for about a year as we learned every possible pleasurable way (and place) we could find to get each other off. Then Jill and I broke up. No fanfare, no broken hearts, just a realization we’d gone as far as we could at the time. We both felt it was time to learn more from other people and we couldn’t see how we could do that together. From time to time after that until college we would remain somewhat close and “touch base” with each other to see what we had learned but we never had a full time relationship together again.
(Jill died of cancer a few years back. I didn’t know that until recently. The first thing I did was find a copy of the Woodstock soundtrack and put on “Motherless Child”…)
My sophomore year in high school started off with a resounding THUD. I was bored from day one. I couldn’t relate to the friends I had made the year before. My relationship with Jill was winding down and the pool of potential girlfriends didn’t do a thing for me. As the school year started I was getting this ever growing feeling of being a “stranger in a strange land” to borrow the title of a book by Robert Heinlein we would end up reading that year that seemed almost all the more apropos after reading it.
Fall was fast approaching and I knew things were going to change for me yet again, it always seemed to happen that time of year for me…I just couldn’t figure out or imagine how.
I had a new young English teacher who was making English fun for the first time and I was actually looking forward to his class every day. We were reading serious authors and serious books from Orwell, Bradbury, Bellows, Thurber and more. Gone were the lame assed pre-teen books and the cutesy Kipling stories of the past few years. We had discussions on what the authors thought or might have thought and he wanted us to pick a book, read it and write about it but not like the typical book report. He wanted us to write about what we thought about it, what we liked or didn’t like about it, what we thought the author was trying to say. I was excited…and stumped. I had no idea what I wanted to read or write about.
I had taken a part time job as a grocery bagger at a nearby store. Next door was a five and dime I liked to hang out in because of Bambi. Bambi was a year or so older than I was and went to a different school but she was the textbook version of the Playboy centerfold of that era. Blonde, curvy, big boobed, beautiful and… she liked me.
So I’d hang out and talk to her from time to time. She was worldly compared to what I, and most everyone I went to school with, was at that point. Her last boyfriend was a professional baseball player who took her all sorts of places and hip parties and she wasn’t at all bashful about talking about her exploits so it was always entertaining to listen to her. She would eventually be my date to the prom the next year because none of the girls I knew interested me as much as she did even though we weren’t dating. (She made the sixteenth hole at the Country Club quite a memorable place that night with grass stained knees for several days afterwards as a souvenir.)
One afternoon shortly after the assignment had been announced I’m looking through the circular racks of paperbacks near the cash register while we were talking. I was still desperately trying to come up with a book to read when a title hits me so hard it almost knocks me over “Tropic of Cancer” by Henry Miller. I couldn’t grab it off the rack fast enough. I quickly said “I gotta go” to Bambi, dropped the buck and a quarter on the counter jumped on my bike and raced home leaving her mid-sentence about one of her exploits. I read the entire book twice in two days, had the outline for my report, notes, footnotes and quotations, the whole thing by the following Wednesday…which was a good thing because my dad found the book and took it away from me (I found it still in the top drawer of his dresser several years later, very well read).
I vividly remember the day I turned the report in and watching my teacher as he looked through the reports. When he saw mine his eyes nearly popped out of his head and his jaw crashed to the desk. When he finally gained his composure he signaled for me to come to his desk. Once I got there he leans over and whispers “Are you sure you want to use this as your report?” I emphatically said “Yes!” and he suggested we talk after class. When we talked he said during my oral discussion I couldn’t use any profanity and should refrain from any detailed descriptions of the sex acts or any references to the sex acts at all. That not only told me he’s already read the book but that he was willing to see what I’d do with it without getting either of us in trouble. I promised I would do what he asked.
I kept my word. I talked about all the usual bullshit stuff like how it took me away to another time and place I had only seen pictures of and how raw and honest it was to me. I loved his use of free association and his “everyman” language instead of lofty prose which amazed my teacher and confused my classmates. Most all of whom went out and got the book later when I mentioned it had been involved in an obscenity trial during my report which created a small disturbance. (Some parents who found their kids with the book were outraged and made some noise which caused my teacher and the school to apologize and say they wouldn’t let that happen again and the whole issue quickly went away. Here, nearly forty years later, the teacher would have been fired, possibly the principal too and I would have been on the six o’clock news in a “How could this have happened?” segment.) I found myself the most popular guy in school for a while. I was “That guy with the book report”.
Needless to say I got an A on the report and the teacher became an unexpectedly lifelong friend. He even ended up teaching two of my children many years later.
One of the last questions my teacher asked during my report was “Did you like the book?” My answer was “Yes and No…I liked it overall but something about it disturbed me and I don’t know what it is.”
When I got home I went through my desk and found the letter Henry had sent me a few years earlier. With his full address in hand (444 Ocampo Dr) I sent him another letter asking him about the book. Now that I had read it I understood what all of the flap was about it. Some things still confused me about it (and would for a few years yet to come). He sent back a three paged letter answering my questions and a polite but stern warning not to try and live my life through his books (books? I didn’t know he had more than one). I was still young and had plenty of time to make my own life my own way.
I took the letter to school and showed it to my teacher who read it to the class (in a somewhat edited fashion) which prompted a new, albeit brief, discussion about the book. Most of the class had read the book by that time and they had questions of their own (which unfortunately couldn’t be answered at that moment). It was probably the best classroom discussion I ever had again and caused other people in the class to start writing their favorite authors. Something we all continued to do for the rest of the year and something our teacher continually did until he retired nearly thirty years later.
I never wrote Henry again after that last letter. Part of me wishes I had. I did eventually read all of his books though yet it still left me feeling strangely about his writing.
A few years before he died I was in LA on business and stopped by the west coast office of Playboy looking for freelance work as an illustrator. I didn’t get any work that trip but I had a great conversation with one of the editors. During our talk I mentioned how much the magazine had influenced me (part truth…part bullshit to try and get work), especially that September ’64 issue with Henry in it. He got this funny smile on his face and laughed as he said “Strange you should mention that Doc. He was sitting in the chair you’re sitting in now not more than ten or fifteen minutes ago before you walked in. He may have walked past you in the lobby as you were coming in.”
I didn’t remember or hear a word he said after that and I left with a need to see if I could meet Miller in person. Armed with a road map and a full tank of gas I drove to Pacific Palisades and drove by his home which was much larger than I would have imagined. I, somehow, expected it to be a small nondescript bungalow common in that part of LA. I had imagined him in my mind to live and be the way he was when he wrote those books. Instead his home was an intimidating house flanked by similar homes throughout the neighborhood in a well to do subdivision a mere six blocks off of Pacific Coast Highway and the beach. I suddenly felt like I was intruding just by driving down the street so I didn’t stop. His fame had served him well, as it often does for creative people brave enough to survive and excel at their craft. I had failed to account for that in my opinion of him. No longer was he the occasionally caustic, struggling, despondent, impoverished man in his books reliant on everyone he knew to survive. He was now, by outward appearances, a respected elder statesman of sexual enlightenment reaping the rewards of those struggles and I should leave him alone. He had nothing to offer me he hadn’t already given me or that I couldn’t find for myself without his help. I had figured out why his books disturbed me a few years earlier. Henry was, as near as I could figure out, a swinger. Albeit a dishonest one.They didn’t call it that back then but he and his close circle of friends would have qualified for the moniker. His friends like Lawrence Durrell, Anais Nin and their spouses as well as Henry, his wife June, along with June’s live-in lover for a while artist Jean Kronski (to be replaced off and on by Anais Nin for several years), and others preferred to call themselves “Bohemians”. Which, based on all of their infidelities may be closer to the truth, but… He was definitely a Hedonist. He sought pleasure in everything and everyone. That was the only common thread between himself and a swinger today.
Most swingers have never heard of Henry Miller. The few that have had only a passing knowledge of who he was and what he represented to the Lifestyle, most swingers would be shocked, appalled, insulted and possibly sickened from the subjects he wrote about and by his selective lack of a moral compass. That part of him represented things that swingers today would steer a very wide path around. The society he lived in at the time of his writing was what might be called today morally corrupt but back then seemed rather commonplace and people really didn’t seem to know any better. They pretended they did, but the truth shows otherwise. Miller spent his life being un-apologetic about what he saw, did and wrote about, sometimes coming off as sleazy. In spite of that we owed him a great deal of respect for showing us where not to go and what not to do in our own searches for pleasure.
The honesty he showed us, even though there were times we might have preferred not to see it, taught us the importance of such honesty in relationships.
As I drove away from Henry’s house that day the light went on in my head just like it had several years before when on that trip back from Vegas I thought I knew what he had been saying. Now maybe I also knew what he was doing as well, I was now ready for what would lay ahead of me.
It was now time to close that book and chapter and start writing my own.
Those memories are still fresh as I sit here this morning listening to the ocean find the shore.
Con finally has risen from the dead and comes out on the balcony in just her heels to flop down in the chair next to me. “I’m Starrrrrrving!” she says dramatically as she drapes a leg over mine before saying “Let’s get something to eat.”
“How about I order something from Room Service?” I ask.
“Perfect!” Con is many things but a good cook wasn’t one of those things. She’s great at ordering from a menu and excels at ordering room service. Besides…I want to get this conversation over with…privately.
TELL ME WHAT YOU EAT AND I’LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU ARE
Long before a Japanese TV show adopted that quote as its opening statement to a cooking competition wildly popular around the world, many people, including myself, thought they understood what Brillat-Savarin was saying. It took me a long time to realize how ignorant I really was about such things.
There is much about me that might confuse the famous gastronome of the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Coc au Vin one day…chili dogs the next but one thing is certain… good food is essential on a multitude of levels to satisfy your sexual soul. It took me a while to make the connection but when I did…everything changed.
When I was in high school I spent large portions of my time during the summer watching TV shows like “The Galloping Gourmet”, James Beard, Martin Yan and Julia Child. My mother was a terrible cook. During one of the many surgeries she had in her life a nerve was cut somewhere and she lost her sense of smell which resulted in such culinary milestones as Garlic Infused Tuna Casserole and burnt just about everything else.
Out of sheer survival instinct (and fear of being poisoned) I began to learn how to cook and rather than risk being ridiculed right out of school for even thinking about taking a Home Ec’ class I resorted to watching any TV show about cooking I could find. That in itself was enough to have my friends periodically question my sexuality…until they got hungry.
It took no time at all to incorporate food into my sex life in, at least, minor ways starting out with the sexperiments I did with Jill inserting various fruits, vegetables and meat products into the orifices of her body. Some time later I would eventually graduate as I got older to the insertion of beer and wine bottles in lovers later on. It sounds juvenile now but it did have its moments.
I was also quickly discovering it could be used as an entrée’ into a woman’s pants and at that particular age…I needed all the help I could get. Food was rapidly advancing beyond its use as just a sex toy and the limitless possibilities food held was shining a whole new light on how to charm a woman into bed. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be until much later in life that I developed the skills to be completely effective at doing so properly. In between those times my efforts were clumsy at best and were rewarded with marginal success…but I kept at it.
My Perfect Rib Roast
6-8 lb Rib Roast (Boneless Preferred)
1Tblsp Kosher Salt
11/2 Tsp Fresh Ground Pepper
Leave Roast at room temperature 1-2 hours before roasting (preferably dry aging the roast 1-2 weeks in the refrigerator beforehand). Preheat the oven to 500 degrees in a CLEAN oven.
Cover the roast with the salt and pepper thoroughly and place on a cooling rack on a baking sheet and place on the 2nd lowest rack in your oven and roast for 45 minutes.
Without removing the roast reduce the heat to 325 degrees and roast for another 30 minutes then increase the temp to 450 degrees for another 15-30 minutes until the roasts internal temperature at the center is 125 degrees. Remove from the oven and let rest for 20 minutes then serve.
PASS THE BUTTER PLEASE…
That single simple line conjures up many perversely romantic and decadent images in anyone old enough to remember the movie “Last Tango in Paris”. A seemingly harmless request would ignite one of the most passionately graphic sexual moments in movies for years to come. I still haven’t been able to look at dairy products the same way since.
Food, passion and sex have gone together since before recorded time. Orgies were exclusively about food, drink and sex. Generations of women were raised to think that “The Best Way to a Man’s Heart Is Through His Stomach”. Good home cooked food was a “sure thing” for romance and marriage.
Things have changed a lot since our grandparents and great grandparents met. Real food was replaced by “Hungry Man” frozen dinners, fast food, and chain restaurants. Food became a necessity not a pleasure.
Fortunately for everyone there’s been a “change of heart” about food recently. Food as a seductive aphrodisiac is back!
While most guys are still stuck in the “Show up naked, bring beer” mentality regarding food and romance the women are aggressively embracing the “Eating as Foreplay” approach to food. They want their senses seduced in every possible way these days and I’m all for it. Everywhere you look these days exotic flavors and gastronomic experiences are quickly becoming the entrée’ to more exotic adventures in bed (and other places). There are TV networks and Internet sites devoted strictly to the pleasures of food and drink along with how to cook and entertain with them. Gone is the haphazard party or dinner of old and we swingers have embraced it all with the same passion we embrace everything in life. We have changed our evil ways, but it wasn’t always like that.
I recall a party my girlfriend and I attended, a birthday party for her best friend’s husband. A seemingly sophisticated (for then) evening of twenty-something artists, writers, actors, photographers and other creative types and we were looking forward to getting there and playing with those people. When we arrived the only thing we saw was a lot of beer, some cheap screw cap wine and a couple of bags of chips “What were they thinking…if they were thinking at all?” I was wondering to myself as I looked around. Everyone was standing around making idle chit chat and looking, waiting for something more interesting to happen…hopefully. I looked at my girlfriend and said “This isn’t going to work.” And she agreed. She and I had already graduated beyond tortilla chips and cheese puffs thanks to a subscription to Bon Appetit Magazine but hadn’t really developed a taste for the finer things in life…yet. Still, I knew this was a recipe for a dead party that had no class at all and would end before it started. It’s a little disheartening when you parents parties look cooler by comparison but that was what I was facing. I was trying to decide what to do. I knew the hosts had no idea what a faux pas they had created and I didn’t want to insult them but…
I guess the look on my face was a little too obvious. An attractive, willowy, blonde with long straight hair, great tits and a western style blouse open down to her navel was cradling a beer against her face as she leaned against the kitchen counter next to the sink and intently watching my not so suave reaction to the situation. “Can’t find something?” she finally asks. “There seems to be nothing to eat.” I say trying to sound clever or something and failing miserably. She just shrugs with an indifferent look on her face then says “So do you have any better ideas?” I lean over to her, reach back behind her and take my car keys off of the blue green subway tiled counter behind her and whisper in her ear “Improvise” while taking a whiff of her perfume…which was amazing. She just smirks, rolls her eyes and leans a little out of my way and I’m out the kitchen door.
My parents had always thrown great parties when I was growing up so I had a better than average idea of what to do. I jump into my burnt orange Vega and I’m off to the store.
Twenty minutes later I’m back with a bag full of olives, pickles, meats, several different chesses, crackers, spreads and a bunch of other stuff. I start slamming together a bunch of appetizers while I browned some hamburger, poured in some sloppy joe sauce (yes, that one) then spooned it onto some dinner rolls with shredded cheese and onions on them and put the olives and stuff out as finger food. Deviled ham & cheese on crackers, bruchetta, antipasti, brie and crusty bread, various dips for the chips and cold shrimp and cocktail sauce started to magically appear (and be devoured). I made a small mess of our friend’s kitchen (which I felt obligated to clean up) but there was finally something to eat. People came out of the woodwork and began stuffing their faces and the vibe quickly changed from standing around nursing a beer to actually interacting with each other. It wasn’t long before people started playing and getting sexy, some even started to remove clothing as they ate (always a good sign).
I headed down the hall to the bathroom to clean up a little and was met halfway there by the indifferent blonde from earlier. “Looks like ya pulled one out and made it a party.” sounding a little high as she leaned against the wall.
“I got lucky.” I said trying not to seem too proud of myself (Besides…it wasn’t my party).
“It seems you did.” She says as she leads me by the hand out into the living room and sets me down on a couch, lights a joint and hands it to me. Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” has just started floating quietly through the room from the sound system.
The birthday boy is standing in the middle of the room with all of the girls taking turns giving him a blowjob. My new found friend takes her shirt off revealing the most perfect looking pair of large natural tits I have ever seen before then unbuttoning and removing the bell bottomed jeans that had been tightly hugging her low slung hips all night then climbs on to my lap and straddles me while kissing me as she begins to rub her cunt against my cock through my jeans which immediately springs to life.
I take one of her nipples in my mouth as I catch sight of my girlfriend’ in the corner of my eye taking her turn on the birthday boy’s meat. My new friend has undone my pants and slid them down to the floor before resuming her grinding motion on my cock. This girl’s pussy feels amazing as it slides the length of my cock. The blonde hair on her pussy tickles my cock in a good way as she slides up and down the length of it. She leans into my face a little more and begins to grind a little harder & faster. I can see her tight belly roll wave like up and down with a slight shudder now and then. The wetness between us is soaking me as she pops up slightly and takes me into her pussy. She begins to grind a little differently. I can feel the head of my cock pressing tightly against the top of her pussy wall, always stopping her thrust with the head against her g-spot. She would then take everything to a whole different direction moving in a way I’ve never experienced since as her pussy grabs and slides, squeezing my cock hard then relaxing and I cum like a cannon inside her just as the song builds to a loud crescendo. She slows to a stop as the last drop of my cum squirts inside her as the song ends, gives me a kiss, rises off of me and heads towards the bathroom leaving her clothes where she left them on the floor. (They would stay there for the rest of the night.)
Just about that time the birthday boy flops out on the couch next to me while another girl is doing her sword swallowing act on his cock and he looks over at me and says “Waddayathink?”
“About what bro?”
“Her” he says pointing a thumb towards the bathroom.
“She’s great! Who is she?”
After a long pause he puts this shit eating grin on his face and says “My sister.”
“Damn” was all I could say.
Amy would become a favorite playmate (albeit occasional) of ours for the next several years until she moved to New York. From that night on…I always planned ahead, food wise for any event in my life whether I was hosting it or not.
“How much for this painting?” a man asked me while his wife/girlfriend dressed in a short tight red dress and heels hung on his arm. The dress is so incredibly tight you can tell that’s all she’s wearing and the nipples of her well paid for tits are trying to explode out of the fabric.
“Twelve thousand” I said as casually as possible.
“Let me think about it for a minute.” As he takes another seared scallop and bacon topped with caviar hors d’oeuvre off a tray from the naked server I had hired for this opening while the server and the lady in red exchange flirty little glances. In fact I have hired eight of them, all models, five women and three men. The only things they’re wearing are shoes and a smile. I cooked all of the food, bought all of the booze, sent all of the invitations and now I have to sell all of these paintings to pay for the whole thing. No one said being a gallery owner was easy, or cheap. Owning a gallery that specializes in erotic art means you have to be even more creative than most to survive…thus the naked servers.
The man wearing the woman on his arm has made his way back to the painting. As I approach him I ask what he thinks. “It’s a little pricey isn’t it?”
“Not really. It’s won several international awards and has been published in these magazines (I show him on the table below the painting). Actually a painting of this notoriety is a bargain.”
“What do you think?” I ask the woman with him. She smiles but before she can say a word I hear a female voice behind me say “If he doesn’t want it…I’ll take it.” Before I can turn around to see who said that the man in front of me sniffs “The hell you will, I’m buying it.” I turn around to say something to the woman behind me and I’m thunderstruck. Shannan. I’m suddenly not sure what to do or say and she’s finding that all too amusing. I grab my assistant and have them start the paperwork for the sale of the painting while I desperately try to think of what I’m supposed to do next. “Where did you come from?” was the only thing I could think to say which caused her to burst out laughing. “I’ve been all over the place but was stopping in to see family when I read you were having an opening tonight so I thought I’d stop in and surprise you.”
“Well you sure as shit surprised me!”
I suddenly could hear that Bryan Ferry/Roxy Music song “Chance Meeting” playing in my head.
Shannan had been my girlfriend my senior year in high school. Deep red hair, a fiery Irish personality packed into a petite dancer’s body. A complete knock out no matter how you slice it. She was a freshman and I had caught her eye so she asked around about me. I had something of a reputation by then for a variety of reasons and it apparently impressed her because one day she just walked up to me and said “Hi, I’m Shannan. Would you like to go out with me?” I’m staring into those deep green eyes of hers and thinking to myself “How could I refuse something that good looking?”
It was passion from the moment we were together. Within a few weeks of dating I took her virginity while alone one afternoon at my house. It was a surreal afternoon that seemed more out of body than actually happening and neither of us wanted to stop when it was over. When I entered her the first time her legs shot straight out like she was doing the splits lying down. It turned out to be an emotionally charged experience for both of us and when we were done we held each other for what seemed like an eternity before getting dressed and going into the kitchen so I could make her something to eat. I was standing there cooking at the stove when my mom came home. I looked over at Shannan who was sitting there staring at me with a sexy playful “cat that ate the canary” look on her face and trying to hide the slight pain she was feeling from losing her cherry, and me with a “Whew…my timing is still good.” look.
I probably had more sex of all kinds with her than I had ever had with anyone else (including Jill) at that point in my life before her parents finally broke us up right after I graduated and she moved across town. I saw her only once after that. A chance encounter several years later while we were standing in line at an upscale deli ordering lunch one afternoon with my wife and kids standing beside me. She just smiled and nodded without saying anything and poof…she was gone again.
Now here she is standing in front of me again. I can’t help but wonder why she’s decided to reappear after all of this time yet a large part of me doesn’t care. So much has happened, no doubt to both of us, and partially because of that I find it very appealing to see her right now.
I show her around the gallery making small talk while she takes everything in and glancing over to me more than once with that same look she’d given me a lifetime ago. “Where are your paintings?” she asks at one point.
“I don’t show any of my work here” I tell her.
“Why not?” was her inquisitive query.
“I made a very conscious decision not to let this become a “vanity” gallery when I started it.” was the quickest explanation I could think of without having to also say I didn’t have any paintings finished at the moment. Between all of that she’d cast an admiring glance at the servers I’d hired and didn’t seem the least bit put off by them and even get a little flirty with them when they came by with food and a drink. I ask her to stay after while I close the gallery and once everyone is gone we relax on the sofa in my office and polish off the rest of the food and a couple more drinks.
“That was an interesting night” she starts off with “I can see you made good on being artistic. My parents weren’t so sure you would.”
“Well then be sure and tell them they were wrong.” I smile “So what brought you here tonight?”
“Like I said…I was here to visit family and I wanted to see how you’ve been. Besides…for some reason you’ve been on my mind quite a bit lately.” She takes a sip of the glass of wine she’s been holding while giving me the most sensuous look I’ve ever seen. Without saying anything I leaned over and gave her a kiss and she relaxed back and rested her head on the back of the couch and smiles “That takes me back a ways” she says in a wistful sort of way. She goes on to fill in the blanks over the last fifteen or so years and her impending divorce and accenting things with more kisses between tidbits of information brought forth by her while I try and catch her up on me. In between everything I get around to include being single for a number of years now like it was suddenly important for her to know that. The conversation eventually comes full circle and back to the gallery.
“You’ve done well, you’ve made it sexy, decadent and yet accessible.”
“Those servers were awesome! Who were they?”
“Thank you again. Models I’ve known and sometimes use in my own work.” I smile back at her.
“Do you think I could have been a server tonight?”
“From what I’m seeing right now…I’d say definitely” with that she leans forward and gives me a kiss before standing up, unzips the little black dress she’s been wearing and lets it hit the floor leaving her in nothing but her heels and makes a slow small circle showing me her whole body.
“I see you dressed for the occasion. Yep, definitely you’d have made the team. In fact you’d have been the first person I would have asked.” I say to her as I take her hand and bring her down to me on the couch. Her body feels amazing, tastes amazing. Everywhere I touch sends a charge through her that causes her to jump and shudder in anticipation of the next touch. I lean her back and slide my fingers into the wettest pussy I’ve been near for a while and find her G-spot. Gone is the young red pubic fur I remember of the past. I don’t miss it one bit. Her entire body convulses like a wave from head to toe as gallons of fluid gush out of her and onto the floor in a huge puddle. (Thank God for concrete floors.) I stand up and remove my clothes while she catches her breath. As I move towards her she pops up on her knees and rests her elbows on the back of the sofa and offers me her ass. I step up behind her and insert my cock into her very wet pussy. She moans and pushes back against me then turns her head back to me and says “That feels amazing. Better than I remember it. I suspect we’re going to have plenty of time for that later. Right now I want you in my ass.” With that I pull out and slide into her very receptive hole as her head drops down and she begins to shudder all over again. We’re both breaking out in sweat as she pounds back into me harder and faster. Suddenly she half screams, half moans and shakes so violently she almost knocks me backwards into the coffee table then falls forward towards the back of the sofa and just kinda hangs there gasping for breath with my cock still buried in her ass.
I slowly slide out and go over to the bathroom just off of my office and get a warm, wet rag and clean myself up before returning to her still in the same position and begin to clean her with the warm rag. All I hear is her breathing and her moans.
She eventually turns herself around and grabs her wine as she settles in against me.
“How long are you going to be in town?” I ask.
“A few weeks, I hope I can get more than one repeat performance before I do go though, that was fantastic!” she half sighs. “I really do want to see your paintings too!”
The next night I had her over for dinner, Carbonara, salad, left over crème fraiche and caviar from last night and a sparkling wine from Napa. We ate naked by candlelight while she relaxed and started telling me more about her life since I saw her last. She kept cryptically talking about “sowing her wild oats” which I found amusing. At one point I finally asked “Do you mean swinging?”
She didn’t look so much shocked as surprised when she said “yeah” and I broke out laughing. By the time I finished telling her all that I had done since we broke up in high school her only reaction was “Shiiiiiit, I’ve got nothing on you do I?”
“Maybe not…but you’ve certainly learned a new trick or two since then.” I say as I smile at her. “I don’t remember doing anything with you and your ass back then.”
“Believe me…you did Doc.” She laughs. The whole time we had been talking she kept absentmindedly playing with the wine bottle and suddenly she glanced down at it and grinned while saying “And maybe hung on to an old trick.” I looked at her and the bottle and knew exactly where she was going.
When we were dating in school I had a friend who had already graduated, gotten married and lived in a little whitewashed adobe house in the middle of a citrus orchard. Shannan and I would go over to Ron and Beth’s about once a week for dinner. Our job was to bring the wine and dessert. I wasn’t old enough to buy alcohol but I looked older than I was. I quickly discovered that if I stayed away from trying to buy beer, cheap wine or cheap liquor they didn’t question my age. My mother drank something that wasn’t too expensive and happened to be French so I tried it and found it decent enough so I bought at least two bottles a week for our dinner parties. After dinner while we were finishing off the wine we’d have a joint or two along with some fruit and cheese, bread and then invariably get naked and watch each other play with our partners (today they call that “Soft Swinging” we just called it getting off.) One night things got a little crazier than usual and before anyone knew it there was Shannan and Beth in the middle of the floor facing each other mounting the empty wine bottles. Without a single word they reached across and started rubbing each others clits and tentatively kissing one another. By the time they started to cum it was a full blown tongue in mouth lip lock that blew both mine and Ron’s minds. That scene would be repeated from time to time over the next several months until Shannan and I broke up.
Now here’s Shannan taking her naked body over to the coffee table and placing the bottle on it and climbing over it and sliding it inside her pussy. God it looks better now than it did back then. I walk over and start rubbing her clit while kissing her. Her breathing is already becoming harder and faster and a small puddle is forming on the coffee table. Moments later she jumps up off of the bottle as I bury my fingers into her pussy hitting her g-spot and squeeze as she grabs hold of my neck and shoulders as she sprays cum down her legs to the floor. “Damn…that still feels good!” she gasps as she flops down in my leather easy chair.
“I have an idea for Saturday night.” I say stepping up in front of her and guiding her head to my cock.
“Whatever it is…I’m game!” She says as she starts swallowing me whole…
Later that night and for the next three nights Shannan would, not only, see what paintings I did have but also become the subject of two of the most important paintings I would do for the next few years. Over several bottles of wine, great food, music and intense sex I learned more about her sudden re-entry into my life. The reasons were probably unrealistic then and unimportant now but the feelings of intimacy remained long after she faded away suddenly…again.
1Cup Heavy Cream
In a bowl combine the cream and buttermilk and then cover with a clean kitchen towel in a warm draft free place and let stand until thickened but still a pourable consistency (12-16 hours…don’t worry about the crème fraiche spoiling while it’s sitting on the counter, the acid in the mixture prevents bacterial disease associated with dairy products), stir and refrigerate until ready to use.
Stays fresh for about a week in the refrigerator, use it instead of Sour cream, Crema and similar items.
DINNER WITH A FRIEND
The late afternoon light always gives the Mediterranean a magical feel that can seem timelessly decadent and tranquil all in one moment. This part of the world called the French Riviera has the reputation to match the light.
The Old World villa’s and apartments blend seamlessly with the new condos and hotels as they roll up the hills away from the water towards the miles of vineyards and farm lands beyond on the other side of the hills.
I had flown in to Nice and Hyeres/Toulon Airport late last night and was too buzzed to get much sleep then. I owed a friend a visit and now was as good a time as any. I spent most of the time that morning (as I somehow often do) watching the sun come up and gazing over the Mediterranean at the boats in the harbor before heading off for breakfast.
St. Tropez beach had been my planned hang out of the day. I was hoping the sun, sand and view would help remove some of the jet lag and possibly some of the stress I’ve been dealing with the past few days. My body was baked…..and so was my brain in record time. I don’t think I had blinked all day for fear of missing something wonderful. Beautiful, tan, well- kept bodies wearing considerably less than the ladies in the Bain de Soleil ads I remember seeing on TV when I was younger. Bodies everywhere, bronzed bare breasts arching up to meet the sun. Designer sunglasses and jewelry accessorized the next to non-existent, if any, items of clothing to be found on the women as they strut from water, to chair, to bar and back again. This constant movement is the mating ritual of the “Rich and Fabulous” and in many cases the “Wannabe Rich and Fabulous”. Everyone would size each other up and weigh the invitations looking for that “A” list offer that will complete their social calendar for the day and advance them socially (and maybe financially). The entertainment value of all of this posturing can wear thin quickly I discovered and after more than a few disappointed hello’s and good-bye’s from some of these young beauties I decided to take my private party of one back to the hotel. I had plans for the evening and it didn’t include any of them…at least not tonight. As I drove my car back to the hotel from the beach my neck started to hurt again just thinking about all of the quick turns and snaps it had done and the visual workout my eyes had endured earlier. It couldn’t help but bring a smile to my face. I barely had time to enjoy the moment when I found myself pulling up to the front of the hotel.
The valet put my car away as I made my way to the desk to retrieve my messages and mail and was told a package was left in my room. The invitation I had made this trip for had arrived and I opened it while I crossed the lobby to the elevator. There were two cards inside. One was a hand written note stating that a driver would pick me up at the hotel at eight and take me to my destination and to “Please Dress” for dinner. It was signed “M”.
The other card was an engraved calling card still preferred by well to do European’s with the single name “Monique” printed on it. I have met many Monique’s around the world and there is many more in France. It’s the “Debbie” of French names in many ways, but a blind fool could easily tell what I already knew about the woman whose name was engraved on that card. This was no ordinary “Monique”. It made me smile again to think about it.
Americans have generic looking self-important business cards that won’t even get you a cup of coffee at Starbuck’s. I could have shown that card just about anywhere in the world and more than just doors would open for me.
I knew “Dressed” didn’t mean a tuxedo in this case, but I also knew a little more effort was expected than the “Just in from the Islands” look I had been sporting most of the day. When I entered my room there was a wrapped shoebox sitting on the bed with another note from Monique on top of it. “Be sure and shave, you look like shit.” Was all it said, with that in mind I got cleaned up and dressed into cream colored worsted wool slacks, a powder blue cotton shirt, raw silk sports coat and then I opened the package. Inside was a handmade pair of Brentano caramel and white spectator shoes (in my size of course) which I quickly put on with little time to spare and headed out the door with me wondering how she knew what I was going to wear.
I made my way out of the elevator and back across the lobby just as a limousine pulled up. A driver came around and, with only his eyes and a slight nod of his head, acknowledged me, letting me know he was aware of who he was supposed to pick up, then opened the door. Off into the evening we rode. The driver was a pro. He didn’t speak and seldom even glanced back at me in the mirror. Which was fine with me, I somehow didn’t feel in the mood for small talk. There was much on my mind that needed sorting out and the quiet time was helpful. The life on the sidewalks and streets outside the car was more of a distraction than I cared to deal with right then so I just settled back, closed my eyes and let my brain unload for a few minutes.
A short time later we arrived at a building on the hill near the center of town. It was a large street side villa with a view of the harbor. I could see part of the beach I had been on earlier that day as well as the lights on many of the yachts I had passed in my travels to and from the hotel and to the café I had stopped and had lunch at earlier in the day. The street opened into a small circular plaza with a fountain in the center. The breeze from the harbor blew quietly across the plaza causing all of the vegetation to dance and sing a quiet tune. At one side several cars had been neatly parked and an armed security guard patrolled quietly.
The walls of the villa were washed in color from unseen lighting that cast them in ochre, blue, purple, teal, yellow and red against the aged patina of the walls giving this old building a surreal new look.
Two rather large, well dressed men stood at the door. You could tell they weren’t guests and they weren’t there for decoration. Their tailored suits neatly hiding Uzi’s underneath. Before I could reach into my jacket and produce my invitation they opened the door and gestured me in while quietly giving me the once-over. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made their “friend” or “foe” list. When the doors opened I could hear the sounds of a live band playing something that was a little African rhythm, and a little Jazz. It immediately took you over and drew you further in to the building. The color scheme on the outside of the building had been carried into the building as well… only warmer and darker the music was matching the décor perfectly. It took a moment or two for my eyes to adjust. Unfortunately not in time to keep me from almost knocking a lovely woman, in the most transparent black dress I’ve ever seen, on her ass. “May I help you?” she asked half laughing in French as we both struggled to keep her from falling. She had on a musk based perfume that was sending my head into orbit while I momentarily held her to me. So much so that it was a minute or two before I realized I was supposed to let her go and respond to her question. I’m not an impulsive person by nature, but her perfume and the intoxicating rhythm of the music was giving me thoughts of fucking this beautiful unknown woman right there in the lobby in front of God and everyone. Fortunately I came to my sense’s……I think. I fished the card out of my jacket pocket and handed it to her. She smiled while she brushed her hair back out of her face with her hand and said, “We’ve been expecting you” in English and handed the card back to me. “Follow me please.” She smiled over her shoulder as she led me through a black velvet curtain.
“I’d follow that perfume, and the lovely ass in front of me, just about anywhere.” I found myself thinking as I moved my way through the curtain.
The room was filled with round tables covered in cream-colored linen. The tables were spaced so as to allow movement by the guests and staff, but close enough that you could carry on a conversation with the table next to you without talking loudly. The heavily textured and colored walls made the large room more intimate in a surprising way. The staff, although provocatively attired in silky white and black, was all business and professional as they moved from table to table.
It appeared the band was having a more difficult time paying attention to what they were doing than usual perhaps. Their eyes were darting in every direction trying not to miss anything that might be happening. In spite of this they seemed cool and weren’t missing a beat musically. I have to admit I was impressed.
All around me couples were sitting and having lively conversations with the people near them as they enjoyed their meals and drinks. Some would look up and smile, as I was lead to a table near the center of the room. As we neared the table I began to take more notice of what people were doing. One woman at a nearby table gave me the most lustful look I’ve seen in a long time as she un-did the halter of her dress and exposed her breasts to the room. It was a matter of seconds before the man next to her spooned some sauce from his plate onto one of her nipples and began licking it off…much to the delight of her table companions. I smiled into her eyes. She moaned quietly and smiled as I continued to follow the lovely hostess to my table.
There were three couples seated at the table having drinks when I approached and without a moment’s hesitation I was introduced to them all by the hostess before she turned and retreated back behind the velvet curtain.
As I was just sitting down and beginning my “getting to know you” chit- chat the white sleeve of a waitress was setting down a glass of red wine. A Burgundy you could smell from two feet away. It was wonderful. “These people know a helluva lot about me for never having been here before.” I thought to myself as I took a sip of my wine.
The quiet moans from the table behind me had become more intense. My table companions kept looking past me to the point I had to turn and see what all of the noise was about. The lovely woman with the exposed breasts now had her feet spread widely upon the table while a woman next to her was reaching under her dress and working her pussy into a wet frenzy. Thrusting more and more of her hand into the woman with greater and greater speed as she looked lustfully into the woman’s eyes and occasionally kissed her while the man on the other side of her continued to lick and nibble on her tits. Her head was thrown back and her eyes closed slightly as she grabbed both people in each hand and she began to thrust her body into the woman’s hand causing even more of her “lover of the moment’s” hand to disappear further into her pussy. Her thrusts began to get harder and faster matching the thrusts of the hand. The dishes and the glasses on the table were bouncing all over the place as her body worked it’s way into a wave-like rhythm that started below her neck and rolled down to her pussy and her thighs. A man walking by unzips his pants and slides his cock into her open mouth and she swallows it down like she was starving, taking all of his cock in one giant gulp.
Moments later her body stiffens and a muffled scream filters out from around the cock in her mouth then her body relaxes for just a moment before starting a whole new series of convulsions. The man withdraws from her mouth as cum spills out of his still pulsing cock on to her face as a broad, exhausted smile lights up her lips. It was quite an impressive sight I must say. It certainly wasn’t what I had expected to see at dinner that’s for sure.
I turn back around in my seat and see that my newfound friends had gotten a little caught up in the whole scene and were happily playing themselves. They were massaging breasts, groping crotches, with kisses being passed around the table.
The woman to my right, Corrine, had her husbands cock in her hand and had been unconsciously playing with him while watching the goings on at the next table. When she realized I had turned around and was looking at her she smiled and unzipped my pants and reached in to get acquainted with my cock. My hand began to work its way up her stocking’d thigh exposing more of her beautifully shaved pussy as her somewhat short dress moved further up her belly.
Suddenly I could feel a hand gently resting on my shoulder and a body leaning closer into me as a very familiar voice found its way to my ear. “Having dessert before dinner Mon amour? How very American of you.” I didn’t even have to turn around as my tablemates all broke into laughter…… Monique had arrived.
“No…. just an appetizer sweetie.” I smiled as I rose to give her a kiss and a hug with my cock still hanging out of my pants as everyone continued to laugh.
She was as beautiful as the last time I saw her. Even if she was wearing slightly more clothing than that micro thong bathing suit bottom she had on that day. That thong didn’t leave much to the imagination, but then again… it didn’t stay on very long.
THAT however is another story for another time. Right now she’s standing before me in what can only be described as the perfect “Little Black Dress’. The almost non-existent straps showing off her beautiful tanned skin with her dark hair in that short spiky style she’s always worn it in. Her vivid blue eyes jump out and take all of me in with an approving nod, as she sits down beside me. Judging from her smile she was pleased with what she saw.
“I see you’ve already met everyone else.” She smiles as she glances past me and looks at Corrine’s still exposed pussy and gives it a slight pat then licks her finger.
“A friendly group you’ve got here.” I grin as I look around the table and the room. She smiles slyly but says nothing, as she looks closer at me.
She reaches over and pats my unzipped fly as she says, “I see some things never change with you.”
“On the contrary, things get better.” I reply back as I give her another kiss on the cheek and then proceed to stuff what’s left of my manhood…and my pride, back into my pants.
I no sooner finish my statement than fresh glasses of wine and salads are put in front of us. The breast of one of the waitress’ resting on my shoulder as she places hot rolls on the table. I playfully turn and take a mock bite at it, which doesn’t even cause the woman to flinch. Just a slight smile as she continues her task.
The conversation at our table becomes livelier with each course. The woman across from me has made eating food a new erotic art form as each morsel is seductively drawn into her mouth, her long tongue wrapping around the food, causing a lustful look from Monique and comments from other table guests about the woman’s obvious talents.
Monique’s breathing seemed to be getting deeper and more deliberate as she ate and watched not only the people at our table, but everything that was happening around us. She did this with amazing calm and grace, not some frantic voyeuristic “take it all in” looks like I’ve seen other people do. She looked pleased to say the least.
The activity in the room had increased as we ate. People in various stages of undress had begun to play and suck their way through the room. The band was beside themselves, but still valiantly playing.
They were devouring food and each other as the level of activity seemed to become wilder and more uninhibited. If our table was approached at all it was done respectfully, kiss’, touches, very sexy caresses, but little else. Everyone made sure Monique was the first person to be approached. It was as if they were being granted audience with the Queen or something. I could sense the eyes upon us as we ate. Everyone was watching and waiting……but for what I hadn’t a clue at the moment.
The food kept arriving at our table each dish more wonderful and decadent than the last. The tastes, smells and textures adding to the intoxicating passions building in us and around us like a drug we couldn’t get enough of. The more we ate…. the more we wanted. Deconstructed this, seared that. Duck, scallops, lobster, uni, caviar…you name it and it appeared in artistic bites that surprised and amazed, even me.
The staff masterfully negotiating the room of partially bare, sweaty bodies that lie between our table and the kitchen seemed super-human. Even they were loosing clothing, but managed to maintain their professional demeanor.
I hadn’t touched Monique yet, but I couldn’t resist any longer. Reaching down I ran my fingers lightly against the inside of her thigh causing an involuntary gasp from her that surprised both of us. Her eyes grew wide and wild yet she said nothing. She just locked her gaze into mine as she continued to place a small bite of roast duck into her mouth.
I returned my hand to her thigh to find her legs spread slightly wider in anticipation of my touch. I barely made contact with her skin when her mouth falls open and her eyes half close as another gasp escapes from her lips. I can feel the heat from between her legs as she continues to stare into my eyes as hers silently ask me “What next?”
An odd silence fell upon the place. The only sound was the music from the band….or so it seemed. I wasn’t sure if we had become more of a center of attention than we were before or what, but I wasn’t going to turn around and find out right that minute either.
My cock has become so stiff it’s found its way out of my still-open fly and is waving around like a heat seeking missile in search of a target. This sight hasn’t been lost on Monique either. Without ever taking her eyes away from mine she takes hold of my cock and begins to stroke it. This happens long enough for her to turn in her chair and bring her head down upon my cock. It felt wonderful as my cock disappears into her very wet mouth. The collective gasp let out by everyone around us made it all the more exciting. My head begins to spin in sheer pleasure as she works me in and out, her tongue dancing along the shaft of my cock and deeper into her throat.
A very large, naked and dark man moves from somewhere behind me over to the other side of Monique and begins to stroke her back as he unzips her dress. As he helps her dress fall to her waist she grabs his cock in her hand and begins to stroke it before starting to alternate between our two cocks. As she’s sucking his cock she stands with her ass to me and lets her dress hit the floor exposing her beautifully tan ass and pussy to me at eye level. She’s so wet that juices are running down the inside of her leg. I’m not one to pass up a golden opportunity so I stand, remove my jacket, and move towards her. My cock is way ahead of me and is moving on a direct course to those very wet lips. I undo my pants and they hit the floor with a thud as the head of my dick finds her slit and slides right in to her. I’m barely inside her when her pussy begins to spasm. With each grip around my shaft she draws me further and further inside of her. It’s as if she’s sucking me off with her pussy……. it’s incredible!
Corrine has taken leave of her clothes and is crawling on the floor underneath us. Lifting my leg I let her underneath us and free my leg from my pants. Suddenly I feel her tongue licking my balls and working its way down my shaft to slide onto Monique’s pussy and around her clit where she does some serious tongue work before returning back to my balls and repeating this all again. It’s all I can do to keep from cumming instantly.
In an effort to keep myself from cumming I turn my attention to the other side of the table……bad idea. There was the woman with the great mouth lying sandwiched between a man and Corrine’s husband Marcel on the table next to us as she was trying to get yet another man’s cock into her mouth. Marcel was pounding his cock up her ass so hard that he was driving her head into the man she was trying to suck and would knock him back off of the table….. only to have him mount the table and start over. Seeing those cocks sliding in and out of every hole in her body did me in. My cock exploded violently inside Monique’s pussy. Cum was oozing out from around my cock as I kept pumping still wanting more of her. Corrine was busily licking every drop of juice and cum from around my cock and Monique’s pussy not loosing even one drop, moaning with pleasure as she did so. Corrine’s fingers were frantically massaging her own pussy to the point that her own juices were forming a puddle on the floor between her legs. Still I kept pumping…. getting harder with each thrust. Her breathing has become passionately determined, but I can tell that, even as excited as she is…..she’s not ready to cum yet.
Corrine stands up and slides her hand between Monique’s ass and me, gently pushing me back and out of Monique’s pussy. She then grabs Monique’s waist and guides her onto the table and onto her back without Monique missing a beat as she continued to suck on that large black cock. Corrine bends down and buries her face in Monique’s pussy as she moves her hips in front of me and spreads her cheeks and offers me her own pussy to fuck. I remove the rest of my clothes and slide in to those silky folds between Corrine’s legs just as another woman appears and begins to suck and massage Monique’s tits. I’m not entirely sure how much I have in me after just cumming so much in Monique’s pussy, but who am I to pass-up such a wonderful offer.
A few moments later the noise from the other table becomes louder and more passionate. I glance over to see Marcel pulling out of the woman’s ass as she rises up and rolls over on her back. The three men, almost in unison, begin to cum all over her body as she reaches between her legs and begins to shudder to a climax.
I begin to hear the familiar sound of Monique building to her own climax as Corrine begins to thrust harder and harder into me as she devours Monique’s pussy. Corrine’s legs begin to shake and she slumps hard into the table for support as she starts cumming hard herself. The man in Monique’s mouth stiffens and cums and so does Monique….. with a vengeance, she starts flopping around on the table like a fish out of water and then falls silent and motionless except for her fast, heavy breathing. The silence in the room at that moment was both surprisingly calm and a little un-nerving at the same time.
Everyone begins to kiss and hug while Monique slowly rises from the table. I glance around the room and see that the room is missing most of the people that were there earlier. About the only people left are a few members of the wait staff and the guys in the band who are looking a little befuddled and unsure as to whether they should continue playing or call it a night. Monique rises to her feet and comes straight to me and kisses me passionately as her body continues to shake uncontrollably. She leans into me for support as her breathing is still coming in deep sensuous draws. The passion in the eyes is still there along with her smile. My instincts tell me the evening isn’t over yet.
She bends down and picks her dress up off of the floor and drapes it over her arm as I collect my own clothes before she takes my hand and leads me away from the table towards an arched doorway at the opposite side of the room. She looks amazing wearing only her heels and her skin glowing with sweat, reflecting the golden lighting of the room.
Halfway across the room she glances up at me and says, “Welcome to my Club” as her smile takes over her face.
“Your Club?” I asked half surprised.
“Yes, I own all of this… including the parts you haven’t seen yet.” She playfully answers back.
“I thought this was a restaurant.” I find myself saying sounding more surprised. “It is …..And soooo much more you haven’t even seen yet. Some come for dinner, some for a party, and some for a night not to be forgotten soon. I hope for you it will meet all of the needs of your legendary adventurous nature.” She laughingly says as she leads me through the door into what I’m sure will be a pleasurable night in the unknown, sensual world she has built here. Untold and as secretive as she herself is. A place limited only by ones desires and imagination. Monique wouldn’t have it any other way and tonight neither would I. Tonight belongs to Monique. With that I follow her naked body through the door. The textured walls in the halls are awash with the same colored lights that highlighted the outside of the building and the dining room. They bring an elegant richness to everything and everyone I see.
European Swing clubs are amazing places. I haven’t been in all of them…yet but the ones I have been in are well thought out and impeccable in every way. Monique’s appears even better. The minute attention to detail is impressive. The theme rooms I was able to glance into as we walk by are stunning. Even just the basic play rooms are elegant and sensual not just a room with a bed and some basic decorations to create a “theme” like many of the clubs in the states do. The dungeon looks like it’s been there hundreds of years (and quite possibly might have been). The Middle Eastern room gives you the feel of being inside a Bedouin tent filled with brightly colored pillows, rugs and cushions. One wall in a large play area appears to be white frosted glass until someone goes in and the door is closed. Then it becomes a two way mirror spectators can see in while the occupants can’t see out. The “Pool” is like a giant fish tank with plexiglass benches and seats placed all over and a bar on the back side you go up steps to enter surrounded by four in-ground spa’s and several large beds. We reach the end of the hall to a large door that opens as we get closer. Inside the walls are colored wine red with several leather couches the same color scattered here and there. I the center of the room there is a large four posted bed. On that bed is a naked woman tied to the posts. As my eyes adjust to the amber colored light in the room I realize the woman on the bed is the young woman who seated me earlier. Monique and I cross the room and when we get to the bed slides part ways up on the bed and looks at me before saying “Are you ready for dessert?” as I hear the door close behind me.
We’ve finally had our breakfast. Con thought she was being cute by answering the door naked and offering to blow the room service guy as a tip. Something she would have nevvvver done when I first met her and something he quickly and politely refused (smart man).
I’m finally stretched out on the bed as she comes over and climbs on top of me and leans down to give me a kiss “So tell me…” Here it comes. I know I’m going to absolutely HATE the rest of this day. “…why didn’t you take me to a swinger’s party?”
“You really don’t remember do you?”
I flash back several years to a time in my life when I was actually doing well for myself. My paintings were selling well. My writing was making me consistent paychecks that allowed me more time to concentrate on those things and have to do less of the odd jobs I’d been doing to keep my rent paid and food on the table. I was traveling more for pleasure than on business and loving it.
When things start to go well for a person they suddenly find themselves in demand for a lot of reasons. In my world I was suddenly invited to be on boards or committees for all types of Arts programs and charities. Patrons and benefactors whom had invested in me one way or the other had silent expectations of me to spread my new wealth around as they did giving here and there to these causes. A task I willingly and happily did without having to be asked.
At one of these events I had the occasion to be seated next to a very tall, attractive woman with that Country Club vibe about her. She introduced herself as Constance. We spent the evening talking about art, music and how awful dinner had been and we were enjoying ourselves largely to the exclusion of everyone else at our table. When the evening wrapped up neither of us was in a hurry to go home so I suggested we get a drink in the hotel bar and continue our conversation. As we made our way to the bar I couldn’t help but notice how conservatively she was dressed. Considering where we were it didn’t seem out of place at all but I still felt it odd. I ordered a bottle of wine and we took a small couch in a corner overlooking the patio that also looked out onto the small lake that incorporated part of the golf course that had faux Italian gondoliers singing to the guests.
Away from all of the other people who could hear and make judgments of her life Con began to relax a little more and she got a little drunker. She told me about the boring, indifferent marriage that ultimately led to an awful divorce she’d just gone through, her demanding father and weak mother who tolerated all of his affairs and mistresses and a dozen other things most people wouldn’t normally tell complete strangers on a first meeting but here she was doing just that. Yet at the same time, a little vague about what she’s doing right now.
We were finishing our last glass of wine when she leaned over and put her head on my shoulder and as she looked up at me I kissed her. She looked like she was fading fast and I asked her if she was OK enough to make it home and offered to call her a cab. “Oh no, I’m fine.” She said trying to stand up. I grab her and keep her from falling back on the sofa as she absently tries to kiss me then shoots me a flirty little look that suggested more to me she was going to pass out soon rather than be a fun date. “Sit back and relax. I’ll be back in a minute.” I tell her as I make my way out of the bar stopping to order her another glass of wine to keep her occupied and pay the tab. I head across the lobby to the front desk and secure a room then return to Con in the bar. She’s already consumed half of her glass of wine.
“C’mon let’s get you settled in.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re in no condition to drive, I don’t know where you live, you won’t tell me and you don’t want to take a cab or leave your car here so I got you a room.”
“Ohhhhhhhh…OK” she drunkenly smiles up at me as I help her up as graciously as I can trying not to draw attention to ourselves and get her across the lobby to the elevators. I get her inside the elevator and lean her against one wall fearing she may not be able to stay upright on her own at the moment. She throws her arms around me and begins to kiss me passionately as the elevator glides up to the floor where the room is. I have to admit I didn’t resist. I get her down the hall and open the door then turn around to guide her in, She had already removed her dress in the short time it took me to do that and stands there in the hall in just her bra and panties. I take her hand and lead her inside setting her down on the edge of the bed and reach around to remove her bra. She grabs my shirt and begins kissing me as I do so. I slide the bra off of her small breasts and down her arms. As I reach her waist I hooked my fingers into her panties and begin sliding them down as she leans back on her elbows and raises her hips and allows her bra and panties to travel down her legs in one slow fluid movement. I try to get her to lie down in the bed but she’ll have none of that. “I’m not about to sleep in this bed alone hun.” is her response as she nearly pulls me on top of her by grabbing my shirt again. I remove my clothes as I take a long look at this naked body in front of me. She’s beautiful. She’s very obviously taken care of herself. Spa treatments and gym memberships have not been lost on her. Her stomach is tight and lean showing the definition of her muscles under her pale skin. The neatly trimmed fur on top of her pussy reveals she’s a natural blonde and her legs are toned and strong. I slide over her onto the bed as I kiss her lips, then her neck and work my way down to her small but cute tits and nibble on her nipples which causes her to gasp. I continued down her body finally reaching her twat and I begin to kiss and lick her slit (another gasp) and she starts to get moist. I insert a finger into her pussy and start massaging her g-spot and it swells to my touch as she begins to rock slowly to the thrusts of my finger. I work myself up to her and replace my finger with my cock and gently slide inside her and we slowly undulate towards each other. My strokes quicken only slightly as I feel my cum building inside me then explode inside her but I continue to pump her while she looks up at me with a lustful expression on her face. Then she suddenly slows my pace and makes me stop completely. I roll onto my side facing her and she’s grinning with a contented look on her face and she leans forward to kiss me just as her cell phone rings.
She fishes her phone out of her purse and heads towards the bathroom as she reads the number then closes the door. I get up and go out on the balcony to enjoy the coolness and enjoy a song or two from passing gondoliers. I can hear Con’s voice rising but can’t make out what she’s saying.
A short while later the door opens from the bathroom. She wanders back into the room and sits back on the bed retrieving her purse to put her phone away while shaking her head. She isn’t sure she wants to look at me but she does.
“Everything alright?” I ask
“Oh, yeah, just a small family thing, no big deal.”
As she lies back on the bed with her feet still firmly planted on the floor.
I walk over to her and she’s sound asleep. I put her legs back on the bed, cover her up and crawl on the bed and fall asleep myself.
The next morning was a little awkward as we dressed and began to leave. She reached in her purse and handed me her card with her phone number already written on it. “You were wonderful last night. Call me.” She said as she gives me a kiss and makes her way through the door and out of sight as the door quietly clicks shut.
A few days later I did call her again. We started dating and each time we went out she relaxed a little more and opened up a little more. She even relaxed her rather conservative style of dress somewhat. Our sexual experimentation was still pretty limited but every now and then she would surprise me by revealing a long suppressed fantasy or kink. She always seemed a little disappointed that I wasn’t shocked by anything she said or wanted to do though. I enjoyed being with her but I didn’t completely trust her. I couldn’t put my finger on why but I knew I just couldn’t. She’d even drive me to exasperation. I’d buy her clothes she seldom, if ever, wore sticking to the conservative Country Club look she’d been brought up to wear no matter what. I discovered her favorite foods were anything she didn’t personally have to cook. She thought I was a genius in the kitchen because I could grab a few ingredients and make a meal out of it and let me do all of the cooking. Still…it was hard not to be around her.
Before long…we bought a house together and the sexual experimentation suddenly started to pick up a little more. Coming back from an awards banquet one night she suddenly had to pee. She directs me off onto a side street of a very exclusive neighborhood and asks me to suddenly stop. She opens the door and steps out as I get out of the car and go around to her. “She’s way too drunk to be doing this.” I think to myself as I see her hike up her dress and pull her panties down then half squats while holding onto the car seat. I step up next to her and gently grab her ass so that she doesn’t fall back and I see “the look” in her eyes. Something I would see many times after that night and I would know what she wanted. I slid my hand around between her ass cheeks and found her slit which I gently stroked. As a stream of piss started shooting out of her pussy and I began to massage her clit causing the loudest gasp I had ever heard her utter then she began to cum. I was never able to tell if she was cumming or not before but this time there was no question. At that point I couldn’t tell if it was cum or piss shooting out of her and I don’t think either of us could care at the moment. When she finishes she rocks up and down against my fingers as she kisses me more passionately than she had ever before. She steps out of her panties and wipes herself with a tissue and faces the house whose lawn we had just borrowed and shouts “Take that you bitch!” and flips the house off before getting into the car. “Who’s that?” I ask as we drive away. “My fucking ex-sister-in law!” she laughs.
As we pull into the driveway of our house she takes off her dress and walks naked to the door. As we get there she turns around and looks at me with a grin and says “I have to pee again.” and heads inside. I find her in the bathroom shower facing the wall and leaning towards it on her hands. I undress and reach for her pussy and she looks back and says “Not this time…I want something else.” It didn’t take long for my cock to find her cunt and it would find it many more times the same way while we were together from that time on.
One night we were sitting on the couch killing a bottle of wine talking about the things we’ve done sexually, things we’d like to do or haven’t done and all of that.
She asked me about swinging and why it was so attractive to me. I explained about the honesty, the sense of adventure and the sheer enjoyment of it. Her response was “I could neeevvveeer do that! Besides, I’d be too jealous.” Without a moment’s hesitation I agreed she probably shouldn’t even consider it. I’ve already experienced where that could lead in my life and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It would be better for me to bow out of the Lifestyle for a while than deal with that…so I did. As it turns out that was a good thing. A few months later a different side of Con would appear and end our relationship.
So here I am several years later lying on a bed with Con straddling me naked asking me why? I look up at her. She’s smiling waiting for my answer. For some reason I feel the need to reach over on the night stand and grab my camera and snap a picture of her. Strangely she strikes a pose. So I take another one. She never allowed me to take pictures of her when we were together before…especially nude ones, but here she is posing away for me as I snap shot after shot. All the while I’m thinking of the answer I still have yet to give her.
“Do you remember the night in the house when we talked about swinging and the Lifestyle?” I start out with. “Hun…we talked about a lot of things.” She comes back with as she rolls off of me and I set the camera aside. I bring her up to speed and she groans and says “Shit! I said that? Was I drunk or somethin’?” I assure her she wasn’t (at that point). “Con…I agreed with your assessment of the situation. It would have been the worst possible thing we could have done at that time.”
“You’re probably right…you usually are.” she disgustedly agrees.
“So what’s happened that this suddenly seems so important to you?” I ask.
“I’m getting older and I don’t like it. I feel I missed a whole lot of stuff and I know I fucked us up in the process. When I read about your adventures I want to be a part of them. I thought maybe we could give it another try and I could see what I was missing.”
“Living with Jack has been a nightmare I shouldn’t have done a second time. He’s as dull and sexless as a person can be and I want more. I want what you and I had before.”
“Nice thought kiddo but it wouldn’t work.” was my quick response.
“Why not?” was her, somewhat pissed, and equally quick retort.
“It isn’t just the sex and adventure in the Lifestyle Con. That’s only part of the equation. It’s the relationship you have with those people too. I can’t think for a minute you’ve changed your ways and there isn’t an ulterior motive attached to this in some remote way that’s going to hurt a lot of people who really don’t deserve that so you can get a few kicks and that’s something I’m not willing to risk with some really wonderful people.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks a little irritated.
“Why have you and I not been together, much less spoken, for so long Con? I’m sure you can remember the answer to that.” The look on her face goes from anger to denial to resignation in a moment before she mutters “Yeah” under her breath.
Constance is, and always has been, her father’s daughter. As history has so often shown politicians can easily get drunk on power in many ways. One of the most common is the interest people suddenly have in you when you can provide them something they want. An interest that can be parlayed into a number of things all with a sexual ring to it while preaching moral rightness and superiority that is not only condoned but expected by other politicians. Con’s father was no exception in this arena and she, along with her mom, endured his affairs and liaisons with a great many women in his life. He wasn’t brazen about it but he didn’t go out of his way to hide much either by all accounts I heard. Being his daughter she proved to be as stubborn and willful as he was sharing his same skewed sense of morality no matter who it eventually hurt.
One night while we were just dating we were sitting around talking about our lives she made an offhanded confession that she had never been faithful to the men in her life. She cheated on all of her husbands many times. She half offered it was the thrill of the chase and the fear of getting caught that turned her on, sometimes without thinking of the consequences. A man she was dating while single flew into a jealous rage when he found out she was seeing someone else at the same time and shot her other lover dead causing a media frenzy in her town for a while. Several other equally interesting confessions were in the process of being revealed when her cell rang and she was off like a rocket to talk privately with the caller (something that happened almost daily during our relationship from the first night I met her). She came back in and confessed that it was her ex-husband who was still fighting with her about some financial issues. I blew it off and never gave it any thought. (I discovered a few days later the reason he called so much was she was still living with him and he was checking up on her. I ended the relationship right then until sometime later when she finally moved out of his place and then she approached me about getting a place together.)
Life with Con was never dull. The drama and constant demands were sometimes overwhelming. That’s not to say there weren’t good times but the drama always managed to overshadow it. Our relationship always seemed to be a secondary issue for her. (Another reason the “Swinging” conversation had never gone any further.) The phone calls continued relentlessly and the normally not suspicious person I was began to smell a rat.
Nearly a year into our relationship I find out through an odd series of events Con was still seeing an ex-boyfriend she had been dating while still married to her last husband. When confronted with it she got defensive and wouldn’t speak to me for days denying the whole issue and saying it was all in my head. When she realized that had no effect on me and I was, not only, not going to fight with her about it but I had proof of what had happened so had no plans to back down she tried to pretend it never happened and gave me the silent treatment. Not only that I was enjoying the quiet and had no intention of giving in, she apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again thinking I would believe her and that would be the end of it.
A couple of months later she tells me she’s going to go out to dinner with her girlfriend and she’d be back later. A few hours later I get a call from a friend of mine complimenting me on being such and understanding guy. When I ask him why he tells me this he explains he just saw Con and a man having dinner together. I said nothing and made some bullshit joke and we hung up. I knew it wasn’t the former boyfriend. He’d recently moved to another state. Suddenly the light went on in my head…it was her ex-husband. I should have been angry for being lied to but I wasn’t. I started laughing as I called Con’s cell number. When she answered I asked her how it was going and she said she and her girlfriend were having a great time and she’d see me later then quickly hung up.
About two AM she shows up drunk carrying her pantyhose in her hand with her dress half zipped. Her hair and her makeup were a mess. “So how was your evening?” I asked from the couch in the living room. She comes to a complete stop with that “deer in the headlights” look and drops her pantyhose on the floor.
She isn’t quite sure what to do and I’m lovin’ this. “How was Jack tonight?” I ask not expecting a response. She just looks at me and shakes her head as she goes into the bedroom. I can hear her rummaging around in the bedroom and a few minutes later she re-appears in the living room. She’s changed her clothes and packed an overnight bag. Without a word she’s back out the door and gone.
A few weeks later we put the house on the market (sell it at a loss) and I pack up all of her stuff so some movers can pick it up and drop it off at her ex-husbands house.
I didn’t hear from her again until now. I can see from the look on her face she remembers everything all too well.
“Con…I can’t trust you emotionally or any other tangible wayincluding that I can’t trust your motives. Why would this relationship and such a huge change in you suddenly happen in who you are and become so important to you now? Who are you trying to get even with at this point in time and how did this suddenly become your choice of a solution to whatever the issue is? If it’s me…I made peace with it a long time ago and have no desire in reliving the past hoping for a different outcome. Regardless of all of the parties, sex…whatever, how long would it be before you’d be having an affair to get your adrenalin rush and not only end this relationship beyond permanently but probably end other people’s relationships? That’s definitely not something I’m willing to find out and that’s definitely not something I’m willing to subject my friends and other swingers to. It’s not worth that and a general rule I won’t break for anyone…especially you with your track record.”
“But, what if I’ve changed?” she asks after a long silence.
“Time will tell for you then but we won’t be together while it plays out and it won’t be an “us” thing regardless. There’s too much mis-trust between us to make it honest”
I say to her “I’ve learned many things in my life about this and swinging. There are three types of people who get into this Lifestyle. Those that have solid, loving, honest relationships that can supportively take things to a higher level, those that have the mistaken belief swinging will fix either themselves or their relationship and those that get forced into it because their significant other has a fantasy in their head about what the Lifestyle is and thinks it’s the right thing to do. You and I aren’t the first group and I’m neither of the other two groups…you might be, but I’m not so what does that say about us and our chances of succeeding?”
“Nothing positive I guess.” she sadly says.
“I’ll always keep my eye out for ya kid and I’ll root you on hoping you do get what you want but…”
“I get it” she says as she gets up off the bed and heads into the bathroom. A few minutes later she walks back into the room with her dress nearly completely buttoned this time. She walks over and gives me a kiss and says “Thanks for telling it straight Doc…see ya ‘round” and heads for the door without looking back. (She always had to have a sense of drama about her entrances and exits. It must have made her feel she was in control of the situation. It may have worked with other people, but for me it was just bad theatre.) I see her disappear through the door much like the first time I met her and hear the door click behind her as I hear the final phrase and piano notes of Cole Porter’s “Goodbye little dream, Goodbye” fades off in my head. A huge sigh of relief comes over me yet I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see her again and if I do…will I really want to?
I feel numb, hungry and ready to be with fun, interesting people. I grab my room key and head to the restaurant for some food, a drink and some fun companionship…not necessarily in that order.
When I was in high school I took a photography class as an art elective. It turned out I was good at it and enjoyed it. It wasn’t long before I was taking pictures for the yearbook and the newspaper. That, in turn, got me noticed even more in school and found a sea of females who were all too willing to pose for me and some of them even willing to pose naked. The darkroom in the photo class became my private domain. If I wasn’t creating new images in there I was getting a blowjob while class was in session. I became the guy to see about having something sexy taken so I had built a pretty respectable portfolio before I graduated.
In college photography became a way to earn part of my living and would eventually save me money when I opened my own design company. I found it cheaper, faster and easier to control if I took any or all of the photos I needed myself rather than pay someone else to do it. There was a constant parade of women in and out of the places I’ve lived in, models posing for paintings, ads or just because they needed pictures taken for their own uses. Once I found myself in the Lifestyle I ended up with a whole new clientele and subject matter that I found far more appealing than taking a picture of a car or can of soup.
It didn’t take long for people to schedule private sessions in my studio to have erotic portraits done of themselves that they could proudly display in their home and as one client put it “Shock the shit out of the straights!” when they came by.
Lifestyle people have always been great partiers and the sexier the party the better. Turn the music up, let the wine flow, the food be plentiful and the inhibitions be left at the door. They approach everything that way and when it came to posing for sexy pictures that attitude only seemed to amp up several hundred points more. The most difficult thing I had to do during a shoot was keep up with the people I was shooting.
I recall a couple who wanted an oil portrait of the two of them to hang over their bed. I had met Al and Rikki at a party a month or so earlier. They were a wonderfully perfect couple. Him a good looking professional athlete and she a stunning redhead with pale skin and the most innocent smile I had ever seen. She seemed like the “Little Red Haired Girl” that Charlie Brown constantly was yearning for all grown up.
The session started slowly with the two of them kissing and caressing as they removed each other’s clothes. It took all of a minute for them to forget about me, the camera and anyone or anything else in the room. They quickly fell into a zone where they only wanted to fuck hot, hard and immediate. Rikki’s skin was perfect. Pale white with not one speck or freckle on it. The light caused it to glow and give her an “otherworldly” appearance in contrast to Al’s tan body. As he sat on a short stool she straddled his legs with her back to him, grabbed onto his cock and gently slid her perfectly shaved pussy around it. Once he was well inside she reached back with both hands and clasps them behind his neck while she slowly lifted herself up and down on his shaft. A moment later she raised her head towards me and shoots me a look through the lens of my camera that very nearly melted it as I shot away. Al grabs her by the waist and carries her with him still inside her to the bed and he lies down with her on her knees still riding his cock. In one swift move she swings around to face him while never taking him out of her twat. I slide down for a closer shot and as I’m coming back up she reaches back and grabs my hair pulling me to her and as we kiss she drives her tongue deep in my mouth before she leans forward to kiss Al and raise her ass a little to me.
My pants hit the floor in a flash and my cock finds its way to her beautiful pink ass hole. I put the head of my cock against her hole and before I can move she slides back and draws me inside. I immediately counter Al’s thrusts which I can feel through the thin wall between Rikki’s ass and her pussy. Both of Rikki’s holes are beginning to spasm and Al and I aren’t far behind. Rikki begins to moan loudly with her voice vibrating as she does it. Al and I both explode inside her as she screams out then falls silent leaving us still attached and breathing hard before falling apart in satisfied laughter. It would be several years before something as memorable as that would happen again…unfortunately for me.
Bob and Mona throw the type of lavish parties that people in the Lifestyle have come to expect on a frequent basis over the past dozen or so years. It’s always an elegant time in an elegant place filled with elegant people. They and their friends are well traveled and see nothing wrong with hoping on a plane from all parts of the globe and descending upon one of Bob and Mona’s homes for a weekend of non-stop hedonistic pleasures. Lynn and I have been fortunate enough to have been included in many of these extravaganzas and one in particular has always stood out. Their summer’s end birthday party where all of the September birthday babies (Bob, Lynn and several others) could celebrate together in a sexually fun, different way.
This particular party Mona had a novel idea. I would bring my camera equipment and photograph the women in X Rated boudoir shots over the weekend. In return they would pay Lynn and mine’s portion of the rental fee on the estate house two dozen of us were going to rent in Las Vegas for the New Year’s Eve weekend at the end of the year.
We arrived on Friday and began setting up the equipment as the clothes and inhibitions quickly disappeared as each couple arrived while having glass after glass of wine from Bob & Mona’s well stocked wine cellar along with a vast array of appetizers pouring out of the kitchen all night. Tonight was just to party. Any shots I took at that point were casual shots in the pool or hot tub of people kissing, sucking or fucking in between more food and wine. As the sun rose over the back wall of the property I was having my cock ridden hard by Gina on the patio. Lynn had retreated to one of the bedrooms hours ago with Mona for some one on one girl time. I knew they were still awake because their orgasms are still flowing out of the house at a pretty regular rate.
Gina is a favorite playmate of ours, tall, shapely with an easy laugh, a relaxed demeanor and an insatiable sexual appetite. She has fucked me raw on more than one occasion. She and her husband Stan and their kids are family to us. Stan is off with another couple exploring his bisexual side. Like Lynn with me, every now and then a woman just doesn’t do it for him and since he knows I’m not wired like that (besides…he’s too much like a brother to me to go there) he looks forward to parties where he’s generally lucky enough to find someone who shares his interests and tonight is such a night so Gina and I have been taking full advantage of our spouses being occupied elsewhere.
As we cum together for what seems to be the five-hundredth time we snuggle in on the oversized lounge chair and drift off to sleep for a couple of hours. We’re soon woken to the sound of my camera going off and the smell of hot coffee under my nose along with a roar of laughter from the other thirty people there as they fall into view. The day has begun. Sixteen women, four hundred plus pictures later my day grinds to an end about two in the morning sitting in the hot tub with what seems like my twentieth glass of wine and a soft pair of female lips wrapped around my cock. I’m too tired to tell if I’m enjoying it but I’m sure as hell not going to ask her to stop. I eventually cum, thanks the lovely young woman who’s name I never got and make my way into the house to the bed I have yet to sleep in this weekend. I find some space between Lynn and the woman she’s been with most of that evening. Both are sound asleep and barely stir as I crawl in and very quickly fall asleep myself.
The morning finds me waking up to the sensation of two pairs of lips working my cock into shape. I open my eyes and see Lynn on one side of me and her new friend from last night on the other. Their lips are gently touching each other as their tongues flick in, out and around my shaft as they look deeply into one another’s eyes. They scarcely notice I’m watching them but they slide up together off of my cock, lips locked as she takes Lynn’s face in her hands and kisses her deeply while she makes her way onto the bed and on top of me. She takes one hand and guides my cock into her wet cunt then returning her hand to Lynn’s face as she rises up and down slowly and rhythmically on my shaft.
I hadn’t been able to get much of a look at her last night but here in the morning light she’s quite striking. I can see why Lynn found her attractive, lean, muscular with the physique of an athlete, short spiky hair and two cats eyes tattooed just above her shaved pussy. Her tits are larger than most of the “volleyball” types Lynn gets turned on by and it adds a slightly more feminine edge to her. In fact she can’t seem to keep her hands off of them as they continue to kiss. My cock is in heaven but in no hurry to blow just yet. I simply relax and enjoy the ride and the view. The woman reaches down between Lynn’s legs and begins to massage her clit. I know it’s probably already soaking wet and a moment or so later Lynn pulls away, gets up and straddles my face pointing her ass and pussy towards the woman riding my cock. Both of our mouths meet at Lynn’s slit and our tongues dance in and around her pussy as well as each others lips. The sensation is intense and we all begin to sweat and breathe harder. The woman lets out a moan and I see her bite Lynn’s ass before driving her tongue deep inside her. Without warning the woman’s thighs begin to shake causing her to sit straight up as her body begins to shake all over. Lynn swings off of my face and dives down between the woman and I and licks my shaft and her pussy at the same time as a flood of her cum spews out of her onto us with Lynn furiously licking trying to catch it all as I explode inside her and watch as it flows out of her along the sides of my cock and mixes with the juices Lynn didn’t get to. The woman falls of my quickly shrinking member and into Lynn’s arms. The two of them lay there holding each other while they try and catch their breath. I head to the bathroom. When I return the woman is sitting on the edge of the bed and Lynn is still reclining behind her. When I make it to the bed she stands up gives me a huge kiss and thanks me for sharing my wife, smiles at us both and heads out of the bedroom door in search of a cup of coffee. I learn then her name is Sarah and judging from the contented look on my wife’s face…we’re going to see more of her for a very long time to come.
After breakfast I would shoot a set of pics with Sarah (she had arrived later in the evening the night before after I had closed down for the night) and then a large all female group scene before packing everything up and dragging our sore tired bodies home for some well deserved sleep. As was usually the case we, like just about everyone else in the Lifestyle, compared notes about the people we played with, didn’t play with, wanted to play with etc. Even today it still makes Lynn and I laugh as we compare notes on the same women we might have fucked that night or weekend. “What would people think if they overheard this?”
she always asks laughing.
THE GOLDEN AGE…
I just spent ten minutes producing the most amazing watercolor of my wife. The pose accentuates her body and her beauty. The colors show off the tan she has pretty much year round now. The painting doesn’t have the detail of a Steve Franks piece, but that was the point of doing it. To somewhat obscure her image in an artistic way that would allow it to be seen but hide the identity of the model.
Why you might ask? Because I want to use it as my screen saver on the laptop I use every day for business and, I have discovered over the years, people tend not to ask too many questions when they see “art” rather than when they see pictures.
What does this have to do with anything other than the fact I want a picture of my wife on my computer? Nothing really, except for one small detail. I never picked up a brush or used one drop of paint to do it. It was all done on computer from a picture I took with my digital camera and then downloaded back onto my computer.
This is not a technological revelation here, just quiet resignation that in this day and age you don’t have to be talented to accomplish something creative. You merely have to know which buttons to click on what machine or program. For someone like myself that’s spent most of their lives painting and writing professionally I find this disturbing. It took me ten minutes to become the very person I have loathed for years now…………I need a drink.
In this brave new world where “Style is everything and Substance is secondary” I have become one of “THEM”… an abbreviated version of a truly creative person. I guess I should start wearing rectangular glasses, a skinny suit and look a little geekier than I might otherwise look which somehow it seems would make me a little hipper now too. At least for another week or two…then the styles will change…again. I have a mental image of myself as looking like some sort of perverted cross between Vin Diesel and Bill Gates with that outfit on.
We’re being forced to feel we all have to look a certain way, act a certain way, appear to be a certain age and promote ourselves in high tech impersonal ways that allow people we don’t know to make snap judgments about who and what we are and whether or not we would be worthy of inclusion into their world. Oddly it’s all based on a few clicks as you page through a generic survey and attach a photo of yourself. If you’re in the Lifestyle multiply these issues by 100.
Lifestylers find ourselves run through an interview process for social acceptance that makes looking for a job seem like a cakewalk in comparison.
Where do you buy your clothes and in what size? Do you plan to or have you recently lost any weight? What do you like to drink and where? Do you buy CD’s or download your music on the Internet? Got a Web Cam? Who do you currently socialize with? What kind of car do you drive? Is it leased or do you own it? How many days a week do you workout? Do you have a personal trainer? Who does your plastic surgery? And of course my favorite…”How old are you…really?” Are you Bi Sexual? Have you ever been in the VIP room at such and such? These are questions I’ve been asked by people for no apparent reason other than this stuff is what’s important to them and what they base their whole life and social existence on. Some of it I have to admit I understand. Most of it is pure egotistical bullshit.
We have fallen into a social abyss of our own making… Albeit a shallow one, for shallow people can only fall so far. Are we afraid of growing old and socially unacceptable or have we become afraid of reality? Have we grown afraid of all of that? Who knows…and who really cares.
We have been re-born as Holly Golightly in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and are in search of that Rat Pack, 60’s Swinger, Jet Setter, Party Person with one too many Fondue Sets and Lava Lamps looking for the perfect party with the perfect people that are as hip, stylish and sexy as we are (at least in our minds we are).
I found myself thumbing through several magazines at a bookstore recently just to see what the buzz was about in many of these relatively new popular rags. Almost to a magazine they all touted themselves as the “Hip, Stylish and Sexy” magazine to read to find out what’s hot and what’s not. The pictures were awful, juvenile, garish and totally unflattering to the people being photographed, the reader, probably the public at large, and (one would hope) the magazine itself. No matter how many thong-clad Hollywood babes or “Girl Next Door” types they put in those things “Sexy” didn’t come to mind, but “Boring” surely did.
The writing was sound bite MTV bullshit that neither said anything of interest, nor did it give you any real information at all….it just took up space. But it was “Hip, Stylish, Sexy” space written about people we don’t care about and probably didn’t have a reason to know anything about. The only thing I could see was that they were young and presumably “hip and stylish”, and, as near as I was able to tell, lacking the ability to have any kind of original thought…oh, and they were presumably sexy too.
Even their supposed anger at the world seemed canned and pre-packaged. It appeared that if you were under a certain age you had to be angry, brooding, and sexually frustrated. If you were over a certain age you had to be cynical, brooding, sexually experienced in an uncomfortable “TMI” way to certain age groups, and this weeks spokesperson for Viagra or menopause and calcium supplements.
That’s not to say that the occasional well written article doesn’t find its way into one of these mags, but generally it’s about as rare as an ad with a model who doesn’t look like they’ve been drunk or taken a bath in about a week and was dressed in whatever fell out of the laundry hamper as they walked by. They all look wrinkled, dirty, mis-matched, and devoid of any taste.
This isn’t to say that thrift store pattern matching is relegated strictly to the youthful, trendy, hipster. I read an uneven article by Dominick Dunne in Vanity Fair a year or so before he died. The several pages of absent minded wanderings by this saged, award winning and proficient writer was accompanied by a new pic of him taken by his old friend and acclaimed photographer Lord Snowdon. There was Dunne wearing more patterns than Lenny Kravitz and attempting to look like the wise and worldly elder scribe he is in someone else’s clothes. Dunne and Snowdon spent part of the article lamenting the loss of so many of the famous people who have populated Snowdon’s pictures for generations and how their Golden Age was passing all too quickly. I am fearful that along with the loss of these people we’re losing much more than their physical presence. We’re possibly losing those intangible traits that have separated us from other primates like class, individuality, rational thought that isn’t accompanied by the use of violence, and pure unadulterated sensuality.
I was able to confirm from my reading at the book store that the trendy places are bars and clubs that have a somewhat retro “Rat Pack” “60’s Hipster” type of feel to them, as it has been for a while now, and the hot cocktails are Martini’s, Cosmopolitans and other retro drinks from that era. Due in large part, I’m sure, to the movie “Swingers”. (I’m sure John Favreau never expected that kind of shift in culture from his little movie.)
With this information in hand and a local magazine of hot spots I went in search of life as we know it today and that drink I needed earlier. Rachel and Vic are going to join me (finally, after three failed attempts to do so since we talked about it several months ago) before meeting Lynn and more friends later. Having grown up in the “Age of Cool” before being thrust into the “Age of Aquarius” in my late teens and early adulthood I was looking forward to taking a step back in time…or so I thought.
The first of several places was a small local bar that had a popular reputation for being a cool, less expensive alternative to clubs in Scottsdale (or Snottsdale as many of the locals call it).
It had been just another local neighborhood bar, until new ownership decided to remodel the place and make it a little more “upscale”. I had been there once or twice before the re-model after having spent time at the topless bar around the corner with friends. We’d stop there when we needed a decent drink and time to let our ears get back to normal after several hours of 80’s hard rock, and bad Country music tittie bars feel is the only type of music a woman can dance on a pole to. I was curious to see how the changes had come to the, seemingly, always packed, little place.
The bar logo was very 60’s and the interior was a well done contemporary/ throwback look with blonde wood, stainless steel, and primary colored furnishings and lighting (A theme that would repeat itself through the remainder of my little journey that evening). The women were casually dressed to thrill in all variety’s of tight tank tops with exposed mid sections, low rise pants with pull me thongs and more body parts pierced than I thought were possible. The men were dressed in the usual onslaught of sports apparel, backwards baseball caps, and baggy pants that refuse to go away as a fashion statement…no matter how tired or over done it looks. Then there was the music…the music…uuugggghhhh! Cranked up to an earsplitting level, over-bassed hip-hop and dance music rattled the walls and even the ice in people’s drinks. It was so loud that conversation was more like a screaming match with the person next to you.
I didn’t expect to hear Sinatra or Bennett flowing over the sound system, but a little Norah Jones and her contemporaries would have somehow seemed more appropriate. It would have made, conversation in the groups of people scattered throughout the place, a little easier and might have helped erase that bored “I’m too cool for my own good” look that seemed to be plastered all over everyone’s faces since they couldn’t say much over the noise. Their conversations, if they were having any at all, seemed so… forced. Then again I doubt there was anything all that earth shattering that needed to be said by anyone there at the time. It was all more like “Yo…what a fine motherfuckin’ ass you’ve got tonight bitch…c’mere and plant that thaing on my dick!”
Rachel and Vic just walked through the door and took no time in finding me and jumped up next to me at the bar. They had apparently gotten the memo. Tight, short tops, equally short skirts and six inch platform heels. They fit right in with the crowd I’ve seen so far. To say they looked great would be a gross understatement. Everyone noticed them when they walked in and the girls were eating up the attention.
I scanned the room for intelligent life and watched the interaction of the groups of people while we caught up with each other.
A woman, noticeable because she was sitting alone, sat in a corner away from people. She appeared to be in her early forties and, from what I could see from my vantage point at the bar, was still attractive and had a nice body. She was dressed like she’d seen one too many Brittany Spears videos in a cropped t-shirt and low-rise jeans, which, oddly, didn’t look silly on her.
When she thought no one was looking her face would fall into a sorrowful look as another tear would run down her face causing her to look more road weary and worn than her years would suggest.
The bag sitting next to her gave her away as a dancer. She had probably come from the topless bar around the corner. I’ve seen that look before and knew why she was crying.
I’ve known many dancers in my life. One day, when they least expect it, they get canned or fail an audition because they don’t “have the moves” any more (or so they’re told). The reality of it is they’re too old in the manager’s eyes and they don’t think she’ll be able to draw a crowd and bring in business so they opt for a younger girl…”fresh meat”. These women are survivors. One failure usually doesn’t get them down…a long string of failures though can crush even the toughest of them.
This woman has hit the wall and she wasn’t ready for it. So there she sits in the dark wondering what to do next and hoping that if she looks cute enough (and gets drunk enough) one of these young studs will take her home tonight and help her not feel washed up and undesirable for a while.
The girls on the dance floor probably weren’t doing much for her mood either and Rachel and Vic probably only made things worse once they hit the dance floor. Gyrating to the music as they ground into each other and/or their boyfriends they were the very things that had brought this woman to her current predicament. Their tight bodies moving in long slow wavy motions as their skin began to shine with sweat. They definitely had the moves, but it was obvious that they didn’t own them. The colored lights on the dance floor making them seem surreal in a theatrical way, but definitely not real in any way. Most of them lacked the genuine sensuality, or sexuality to really sell what they were doing. Rachel and Vic could hold their own, but…no amount of lighting or smoke or sexy clothing could make them all look good.
The daggers from the eyes of the woman in the corner left no doubt in my mind she knew this all too well and was only getting madder about what was happening to her.
About this time the music took a slight turn and the beat of a dance tune that everyone, except me, seemed to know as they hit the room and started drawing more people to the dance floor. A woman appeared from the edge of the crowd and made her way across the dance floor, which parted like the Red Sea before her. I’ve seen what was going to come next many times before. One of my daughters has this talent and knows how to use it all too well. She had a slow deliberate walk that caused her hips to sway from side to side almost in sync with the music and to say there was attitude on her face would be a gross understatement. She was hot, confident, sexy, and she knew it. So much so Rachel and Vic quickly joined me back at the bar to see what was going to happen next. There was this large, muscle bound lunk of a boyfriend following behind her like some sort of lost puppy until they made it across the dance floor and he dutifully took a seat on the floor at one corner in front of the DJ booth where she stood over him with her legs on either side of his body as she began to move to the music while holding on to the corner of the booth and lowering herself so that her crotch was about eye level to her boyfriend giving him a view of whatever was (or wasn’t) under her little black skirt. Her moves were absolutely exotic and had everyone’s attention, even the woman in the corner. She had a completely enthralled look on her face. Before I could say “my, my” she was out of her chair and making her way across the dance floor to where this couple was. Half way across the floor she began to move and get in the groove of the music so that by the time she reached the couple she was practically melted into the other woman’s moves…and judging from what I was seeing it was more than appreciated by both of them. Rachel and Vic looked at each other, then me, and asked (almost in unison) “Does stuff like this happen a lot when you’re around?” As the beat of the music quickened so did the contact between the women.
“More than I want to admit to usually.” I laugh back to them.
The touching, caressing, and kissing was starting to take on a frenzied look, which left the boyfriend a speechless idiot sitting on the floor almost drooling on himself. I think the whole dance floor collectively came when the two women started playing with each other’s tits. I know they came when all of the sudden both women lifted up their shirts and started sucking on one another’s nipples. Rachel and Vic were mesmerized by what they were seeing. Rachel leans over to me and whispers “Are they swingers?”
“Possibly, but this is an example of how quickly things can change just about anywhere, any time with us around these days.” I say back to her.
I could see nervous conversations between bar management and security about whether to shut them down, but so far nobody was making a move…. they were all just watching, waiting to see what happened next.
As quickly as the whole thing had started the song ended. The two women took a breathless sigh as they pulled their shirts back down and kissed each other again before helping the lunk to his feet and making their way back to the one woman’s table making introductions along the way.
Vic finally gasps out “Shit I think I just soaked my bar stool cumming!” which caused Rachel and I to burst out laughing.
The rest of the bar continued to watch them for some time in anticipation of something more happening. It was pure magic and I loved it. The whole place seemed transformed by the actions of two strangers doing what came naturally to them. Sensual power in the hands of an expert had once again proven superior to superficial beauty. The sorrowful woman had gotten more than she could have hoped for and was sorrowful no more…at least until tomorrow. Right now though, she was a celebrity. Right now she had friends. Right now she was Golden.
I was about to collect the girls and leave for another stop when a guy came in and sat on the other side of me at the bar. Dressed in a brightly colored long sleeved shirt and plain-front slacks he couldn’t help but stand out a little from the rest of the crowd.
What had caught my attention were the sleeves of his shirt. They were obviously too long for the length of his arms and the unbuttoned cuffs were swallowing his hands. Every time he moved the cuffs would flap around like a pair of useless wings, which in turn would cause me to laugh.
The girls thought he was cute so the next thing I know I’m involved in a conversation with this young man about how he had been trying to find shirts like Brad Pitt had worn in “Ocean’s Eleven” and that this was a close as he’d been able to come to “those really cool long cuffs” Pitt had worn in the movie and how he was waiting for “Ocean’s Twelve” to come out so he could, hopefully, find out more info about them. At least that was as close as I could translate what he said. Between the noise, music, and having forgotten my Ebonics Dictionary this particular night I was on my own to figure some of it out. Even the girls couldn’t figure out what he was saying.
“French Cuffs.” I said. “French Cuffs?” came the dumbfounded response from my young friend. I then explained how French cuffed shirts looked and worked as the kid’s mouth dropped further and further towards the bar. “Wow! Thanks!” Was his excited response as he finished his drink, shook my hand, said good-bye to the girls and disappeared out the door and, I’m assuming, headed towards the nearest department store.
I decided we’d had enough fun there and it was time to head to the next stop on this little journey. We we’re supposed to meet my wife and some people there. I couldn’t help glancing back at the woman in the corner one more time. She happened to be looking in my direction and our eyes met. Without a word and just a slight appreciative smile we said hello, I understand, good luck and good-bye. Then we both nodded to each other and I walked out the door to the parking lot. A moment of pure sensual bliss between two strangers…and it felt sooo sexy in a sad sort of “I’m glad that’s not me” way.
As I got into my car and headed towards my next destination with the girls following behind in theirs, I thought about the conversation I had just had and “Ocean’s Eleven”. I have to admit it was an excellent remake of a classic Rat Pack movie. I even own a copy of it. But in spite of that fact I’ve always been bothered by it as well. The original film had flaws to be sure, but the one aspect of that movie that made it a classic was the cast. Yes they were icons that were adored and embraced by the world at large, but the most important element was the genuine, unforced chemistry amongst them that can only come from true friends. They fed off of each other. They were “Entertainers” in the truest sense of the word and weren’t as narrowly talented or defined as many people are today and they were making the most of their talents, but above all they were having fun and that made them cool in a way few, if any, have been able to duplicate since.
The remake, by comparison, had a better script and high profile, bankable talent but the fun was missing. Even all of the publicity seemed forced and un-natural. It was as if they had left the best part of their acting for the promo work as they tried desperately to convince the world they were all “Best Buds”. In this day and age of over-dissecting celebrities, and public officials people are, understandably, reluctant to show too much of their true selves to us. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck are extremely close friends “Are they too close? Are they Gay?” asks a supermarket tabloid. With that kind of every day scrutiny it’s no wonder we’re getting superficial sound bites from famous people these days.
No longer do celebrities exist, other than perhaps Jack Nicholson, the late Dennis Hooper and maybe Sean Penn, who look at you and say “This is who I am. I don’t care what you think about it. You can like me or not…so Fuck You.”
We mirror our lives by what celebrities do and don’t do. We have become a superficial society filled with shallow thinkers and hollow dreams. We are also now a society of people who worship pretty mannequins with no real feelings.
We try and bring back an era in style only now. We can’t deal with real issues and feelings…it’s much easier to pretend we’re cool and that we’ve done the work to get us to that exalted level than to really try to get there. Regurgitating the past seems easier to deal with than moving ahead to the future with new and fresh ideas.
We seek out people who look like we want to look ourselves and act like we think they should act in an effort to hide the truth from ourselves as to who we really are. They become disposable friends who only are useful as long as they continue to help mask our charade. “The Golden Age is gone and has been replaced with plastic.” I think to myself as I drive down the road.
I pull into our next stop for the evening and we make our way to the expected blonde wood and stainless steel bar. I order Bourbon neat, and then have to explain to the young bartender what “neat” means. The girls order “Cosmo’s”.
The music is quieter here and not as obtrusive. The walls are dark, yet colorful, tastefully filled with art from local artists. It almost feels like home. There is conversation buzzing throughout the place and I feel a little relieved. I hear discussions about art, music, politics, and sex. I hear no mention of fantasy sports teams, video games Dungeons & Dragons or other silliness the way I had at our previous stop. I almost feel guilty for my musings in the car on the way over here.
The people are pretty, artsy, hip and, in some cases, flamboyant. They show a little class…and a little pretentiousness along with their fashion sense. They remind me of the black and white pictures Karl Bissinger took in the 40’s and 50’s of the artists, writers, dancers, and actors he knew in and around New York at that time. They had a quiet elegance about them and he always seemed to capture their inner spirit. One of the people in the bar reminded me of a picture Bissinger took of a very young Truman Capote reclining on a chair dressed in a manner that screamed his homosexuality in an era where that type of behavior, much less look, was very closeted and not brandished about so blatantly. Here he sat unafraid of who, or what, he was with a look of complete acceptance and calm about him. I remembered that picture as I watched the man across the room and thought to myself that maybe in some small ways we really have evolved a little in spite of our obvious trappings. Here they were with a nearly seventy-year span between them sharing the same look. The girls noticed him and leaned towards me and giggled “NOT a swinger!” to me. I laughed and nodded agreement to them.
I looked around and wondered what I would find if I looked too deeply into the other people around me.
An attractive couple enters the bar and makes their way towards two empty barstools next to me.
You can’t help but notice her, or at least I can’t; yet she hardly seems like a blip on the radar in here…except for Rachel and Vic who mouth “Swinger?” to me and I say “probably” back to them. That prospect seemed to excite them and I chuckled. Her perfect, and obviously enhanced, body is shown off nicely by the sheer dress that hides nothing from your imagination. For someone so beautiful she seems to lack any real sensuality. “I guess she couldn’t find any on sale that week.” I quietly think to myself as I nod hello to them.
She smiles a less than real smile as she sits down before she falls out of her heels and he sits down beside me and gives me a nod as he places his arm on the bar. His shirtsleeves are much too long and hide his hand under an unbuttoned cuff. I smile and as I down the last little bit of my drink I say to him “French Cuffs”.
The girls’ hopes sink as that statement takes hold in their heads and they give each other a dejected frown before giggling.
I would have said more but someone coming through the door caused everyone in the place, including me, to stop and take a very long look. It was as if a hidden spotlight had been directed at the door. In walks this woman with very short, spiky white blonde hair. She had a tan you could tell was natural that seemed darker against the top she was wearing which looked like it was made out of a pair of white stockings. It was so transparent that she seemed to have painted a thin layer of whitewash on the upper part of her body; this made her very visible nipples brighter and more noticeable. A pair of amazing legs protruded from under a short cream-colored skirt. She was absolutely beautiful and watching her walk was like one of those slow motion, cat like moments you see in the movies and music videos. She walked and looked like she owned the place and didn’t hesitate to make eye contact with everyone she encountered and they were more than appreciative. It didn’t seem to matter whether it was male or female the lust level in that place had just jumped off the charts and everyone in the place looked like they wanted her. I scanned the room as she made her way down the bar and watched as they all sat mesmerized by this woman.
As she approached near where I was sitting she reached out and touched my shoulder before leaning over and giving me a kiss. “Hi sexy, sorry I’m late.” My wife had arrived. With “Oh goody, goody!” squeals and hugs from the girls Lynn joined our group.
As she sat down I ordered her a Martini and glanced up into the mirror behind the bar. People were still transfixed on this woman which I found slightly amusing since she’s old enough to be the mother of many of them, granted it’s doubtful many of their parents looked that good, but still…
There they sat. “Why had she made such an impact when the other woman didn’t?” I wondered to myself.
A few minutes later another couple we know arrived to join us for drinks. Karen’s a striking brunette with a dancer’s body. She always seems to look much younger than her real age. I’ve never seen her venture out in public without dressing to thrill and tonight is no exception. Karen struts through the place in an extremely short skirt and cropped t-shirt, with the tallest pair of heels I’ve ever seen on her feet. Her husband John, a ruggedly good looking gray haired man who is always impeccably dressed no matter how casual the evening, follows closely behind her looking a little nervous about the attention his wife is creating, but judging from the smile on his face…not that nervous.
He does, however, seem relieved that we were already there and he wasn’t facing this scene on his own. “Can’t handle the heat tonight?” I ask half laughing as he sits down next to me and orders their drinks.
“You try living with a non-stop walking hard-on and see how well you deal!” he laughs back at me.
“I do, she’s your wife’s best friend…. remember?” I shoot back and we both have a good laugh before turning our attention to the ladies. By this time they’re hugging and kissing while Lynn introduces Karen to Rachel and Vic with Rachel saying to Karen “I see you got the memo” while looking at Karen’s shoes. A moment later the girls are all laughing and talking like old friends and have already tuned John and me out which makes both of us laugh even harder.
Suddenly the spotlight had been squarely affixed on where we were sitting and the world seemed to revolve around that spot. It appeared the belle’s of the ball had arrived and now the party could get started. We had been elevated to instant celebrity status and had suddenly been elevated to hip, stylish, and sexy territory that wasn’t there (at least for me) a few moments earlier. People were trying to figure out who these four women were…and probably what the hell they were doing with the likes of me. Eager listeners leaned in to catch the women’s conversations trying all the while to act like they weren’t. Lynn was aware of the attention and worked it for all it was worth. The other girls wasted no time in picking up on that too. They took their conversation on a lustful ride that caused some people to lose track of the fact they weren’t supposed to be listening and left them with their mouth gaping open and eyes so wide you thought they might pop out. All of this was taken in stride as they stroked, played, laughed and just generally had a great time as Rachel and Vic told Lynn and Karen about what had happened at the last bar. At one point Karen yelps out “You mean like this?” as she grabs Lynn’s tits which caused Lynn to lean in and kiss her and hold onto her. The more Lynn moved and gestured, the more Karen countered and fueled the fire and the more the room seemed to watch. It was as if they expected us to produce a rabbit out of the women’s asses or some part of John’s anatomy. I was in the presence of greatness. It has sprung up out of the desert once again like it had not too long ago. And once again it all happened in a surprising way no one expected nor could anyone have explained. Six attractive but seemingly un-cool people by today’s magazine’s standards held a captive audience of hipsters in the palm of their hands. We were having fun. We really didn’t care much what they were thinking we just wanted to enjoy each other’s company and connect as friends and lovers for a while. Rachel and Vic were getting the picture.
All we had to do was pull a few of their strings and give them some hollow tidbit of useless advise and they’d have run screaming into the night that the New Messiah had been found in an upscale semi-gay bar in downtown Phoenix.
Mother Theresa was administering to the socially inept and they couldn’t get enough. I was in awe…. hell, I’m married to one of them!
After several drinks and a great deal of conversation we decided it was time to leave happy hour to the kiddies, blow off another club and retreat to the sanity of home for some much deserved play time and probably something to eat. Even the walk to the car was an adventure in disruption as people walked into things watching us walk by. I get the feeling we have just played out in real life the closing scenes from “Logan’s Run” where “society” has had its mask of deception removed and the people have seen maturity for the first time and don’t quite know what to make of it yet. It’s a sublimely satisfying moment as we walk back to our cars feeling hip, stylish and sexy in the dark holding hands (and other things) and saying nothing.
We’re all going to go play for the rest of the evening in ways Rachel and Vic hadn’t quite done yet. The girls are excited and want to get some of that sexual energy and new found freedom out. Lynn’s already getting naked in the car. I feel a need to capture some of this too. I’ll probably take pictures tonight but tomorrow…maybe I’ll do a real painting.
SLEIGHT OF HAND
The vast majority of people who get into swinging are wonderful, sexy people but because so many are well to do we can also become a magnate for people with less than honorable intentions. Here is a cautionary tale to illustrate this.
Holly……. we’d met, what seems a lifetime ago, in Las Vegas. I was there to write an article for a magazine and while I was at it, drum up some painting commissions for later in the year. It was a memorable meeting to be sure…most anything having to do with Holly was memorable. It’s just a matter of trying to decide if it’s a good memory or a bad one.
Here I am in Jamaica camped out at Hedo doing research for an article in an international magazine and here is a ghost from my past (although at the moment I don’t know that. She just looks promising. When you’re at a place like this everyone looks promising. Despite what most all of the “Adult” resorts print and say pretty much anything goes anywhere, anytime so the visual stimulation is pretty much over the top 24/7.
I decided to go with the flow and let things take me where they will on this trip and sort it all out later. Having decided on my “Master Plan” for writing this article I headed off in search of that one bar stool that surely had my name on it. I had to test-sit a few, but I eventually found my chair and, as luck would have it, a few new friends in the form of two couples from Chicago who had just arrived and were anxious to get the party started any way they could. Before I could say hello and get their names they were on their second round of drinks and the women were discarding their clothes as fast as their inhibitions, and alcohol consumption, would allow. They were your typical forty-something upscale “fun seekers” with plastic and an attitude…….I liked them right away in spite of all that.
There was Steve and Cathy who could hardly wait to show off her new boob job, which, I have to admit, was impressive. You’ve gotta love someone who hands you a drink while taking off her top and saying “here feel these. Whadda ya think?” And there was Harvey and Rhonda or Barbra…. it was hard to tell what she said with her freshly Botoxed lips wrapped tightly around Cathy’s nipple (I would a short time later learn those lips could do a lot more than that, but….). Thank God she had the decency to not wear a dress or skirt that matched Harvey’s shirt. Harvey was a character. He had a bad joke for every occasion (and an even worse Aloha shirt to go with it as I would discover through the week.), with a laugh you could hear all the way back to Lakeshore Drive. He leans over to me at one point, and with a lecherous laugh, tells me I ought to walk over behind his wife and stuff my dick up the hole of my choice then snorts through a laughing fit “she’ll love it! Trust me!” I didn’t take him up on his offer, but did consider it for a brief moment. I opted to wait and see how things progressed.
Steve seemed to be the odd man out. He was dark, quiet and intense. I’ve seen his type before. Alpha male aggressive, always controlling the things and people around him, especially Cathy, whom he treated like property, seems to pout if the conversation isn’t directed at him and how wonderful he is. I had a feeling I was going to be doing a lot of messing with his head this week and found myself looking forward to the challenge. These people were taking partying to a new level compared to what I’ve experienced thus far today and I was honored to be in their presence…. (Not to mention a few other places as we went along.), especially since they were buying. The drinks were flowing. The music was playing and there was warm, sweaty, skin within reach of my body. “This must be what heaven is like.” I thought to myself as I came up for air at one point after downing my fourth drink. I don’t know what time I staggered away from the bar. Nor do I exactly remember how I made it to my room. I’m guessing from the few odd pieces of women’s clothing I found the next morning I had some help and company for part of the night, but who that mystery woman was is still an unknown because no one came to claim those items all week……dammit. Still I couldn’t think of a better way to start my little visit to this place off.
On the second day I decided to make my way down to the beach about mid-morning for some much needed sun after having breakfast. As luck would have it breakfast was with a few lovely ladies from Miami. Amy and Jennifer were flight attendants for an airline and I quickly learned that they get here several times a year as a “stress reliever”. There is no better way in the world to start your day than by having breakfast with two attractive, nearly naked women who can actually hold a conversation………..not that I was necessarily listening to everything they said.
My mind was wandering all over the place as I watched them touch, kiss, laugh and talk for what seemed like forever. No matter what the topic started out, as it always seemed to come back around to sex. Not that I’m complaining mind you. Especially since it was probably my doing that we ended up on that topic. Thinking with the little head was the only option available to me at that hour of the morning since half my brain cells were probably left at the bar last night. The way their mouth’s moved and their voices seemed to play across each other they could have recited an auto repair manual and I wouldn’t have wanted to leave for even a moment. Yet sex was the topic du jour not only at our table, but also at just about every other table within earshot. As we talked they started getting more playful. At one point Amy takes a strawberry from her plate and sticks it between her breasts, then leans over and offers it to me. Who could refuse such a sexy gesture? There are few rules in a place like this but playing with or near the food is pretty much a no no so we were all cautioned to behave ourselves by the staff. We ate what we could without going crazy and left to a spot away from the buffet area where we could pick up where we had left off minus the food.
It took no time at all to commandeer a table on a nearby patio with our coffee and juice and even less time for the girls to get serious about taking their playing further faster. Jill and Amy fall into each other passionately kissing as they began to grope and finger each others pussy while Jen slid over and undid my shorts. She slid them down to my ankles before planting her bare ass on my cock facing the girls so she could see what was going on. As Jill and Amy got more fervent Jen began to slide her pussy along the shaft of my cock back and forth in a slow but deliberate movement. She was in no hurry to take my cock but wanted the sensation while her friends gave her the visual thrills she was needing right then. A few moments go by and Jill pulls Amy up from her chair and lays her on the table with her legs still dangling off of the edge. She pulls a chair up closer, sits down and buries her head in Amy’s pussy which brings a yelp of pleasure to Amy. Jen can’t take it anymore as she stands up and leans across the table, spreads her legs, gives a quick glance to me and turns her head back to Amy and begins kissing her. I know exactly what she wants and stand up, lean forward and slide into her cunt in one quick movement. She barely gasps as my cock makes it all of the way in before beginning a series of long slow strokes which immediately cause her legs to start shaking.
About this time I catch a female body wearing only heels and a bright green pario wrapped around her waist. She moves without a word to join Jill working on Amy as she strokes Jill’s back for a moment before reaching between her legs to stroke her pussy.
This new addition to our group I was to discover later was Holly………and she was amazing. It was hard to gage sizes in the tangled mess of arms and legs around me, but she seemed tall and lean. Her sun bleached blonde hair highlighted her tan and very tight body. Her tits were perfect and real……….and just out of reach from my position behind Jen. It took no time at all for Holly to get into the rhythm of our little post breakfast playtime and even less for her to let go and start cumming from the fingering Jill had been applying. You could see the whole world drop away and her not care about anything but what she was feeling between her legs at that moment.
I watched as she went trance-like and her eyes would start to roll back into her head as her body began to slowly rock back and forth as her stomach started to roll like an ocean wave down to her pussy as she started to cum. Her legs began to shake un-controllably so she leaned forward onto the table for balance as she rolled her head back. Her eyes were still closed and her mouth hung wide open in one elongated gasp that began and ended with a shudder. Then her eyes opened with this demonic sexual glare that made her blue eyes even bluer and slightly menacing. The mere sight of her cumming like that caused me to explode inside Jennifer like some sort of mini-volcano sending a river of cum deep inside her. Amy was a second behind me moaning and screaming with delight as Jen began to rock and shudder letting a muffled moan fall into Amy’s mouth as Jill continued to eat Amy and cum at the same time before falling silent and passive in front of me. A few shudders and several gasps for air later we all collapsed into a sweaty heap across the table.
As we all tried to catch our breath I took a look around to see if anybody was noticing our little melee while I wiped my cock with a napkin from the table. To my surprise many were having similar moments of their own or were seemingly disinterested in what we were doing. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh inwardly at the absurdity of what I was seeing and had just participated in. I gave my three tablemates a quick kiss and retreated to the beach for some sun. On the walk down to the beach I made a mental note to get a bigger table when I got home. It seems they get almost as much action as a bed does and the tiny table I have at home wouldn’t hold one person let alone more.
It took most of my walk down to the beach to get my hardon to soften enough that I didn’t look like some sort of flag carrier leading a parade. I stopped and picked up some suntan lotion at the little general store/gift shop and had a wonderful conversation with the woman who was working the counter.
She was a delightful woman with a youthful body, sharp mind, quick wit and that sexy lilting Jamaican accent that just captures your ears. She could have been telling me to go to hell and it would have sounded enchanting. So much so she almost talked me into purchasing half of the store before I came to my senses.
I asked her about where one would go to hear live music and party besides the usual places like Ric’s and Margaritaville. She gave me the names of a couple of places I might check out and said that if those didn’t fit the bill to let her know. There were other places as well, but ………. And the look in her eye told me that it might be more than I’m willing to deal with right at the moment without a bodyguard. Me, being me, was intrigued enough that I said I’d let her know and continued toward the beach and my, long awaited, time in the sun. As I started to turn and leave she grabbed my hand by the wrist. I turned to see her eyes looking at me rather cold and direct through her smile. “You won’t find what you think you want here, but you will find what you truly need before you leave.” With that she gave my hand a pat and I left with a rather confused look on my face and a cold chill up my spine. In a kinky sort of way it was kind of a nice feeling…God I need a break! Or a therapist…maybe both.
I was still getting settled in my lounge chair after covering my body with suntan oil when I hear a slightly husky, breathless, female voice from behind my chair. “There’s nothing sexier than a naked well oiled man.” I look back to see Holly standing there with a towel in one hand and a book in the other. Her sunglasses are now hiding the blue eyes I briefly saw at breakfast.
“It’s a shame you’re so shy. What do you really think?” I laughingly say back to her and smile. I can’t tell what her eyes are saying from behind those sunglasses, but her mouth is saying she’s amused by something and it isn’t the clever repartee’ coming out of my mouth.
Without a word of invitation she takes up the chair next to me and bends over to lay her towel out. She intentionally does this so that her ass is just inches away from my face. She’s so close that the musky odor of her pussy flows out and mix’s with the ocean breeze and the smells of tropical fruit and sends my head spinning again. I openly admire the shades of brown and pink and gray between the beautifully tanned cheeks of her ass .The further down to the chair she bends the wider her pussy opens and exposes that dark, moist cavern within. Behind her clit is a silver ring with a diamond in the center of the ball that sparkles in the sun like a beacon guiding you inside her pussy.
She straightens up and sits down. Her grin has grown wider now. “You’re not easily impressed are you?” she half laughs. “What do you mean?” I ask as coolly as possible and survey the beach. “ Most men would have cum buckets the moment I bent over or at least tried to eat me, you didn’t even get hard, you barely noticed…from what I saw earlier I know you’re not gay…so what’s up with that?” With this she gives me a little fake pout before breaking into a huge smile.
I grin and tell her “If you’re wondering if you’re pretty enough…don’t worry, you are. It just takes more than a beautiful pussy to get me going.”
“Hmmmmm… that sounds like a challenge to me.” She laughs as she finally sits down and rests her elbows on her knees. She keeps her legs spread apart as she rests her chin on her folded hands and gives me a very long look through her sunglasses. “I’m Holly.” She finally says after a moment and extends her hand to me with that grin of hers getting broader. Without letting go of my hand she moves over and sits on the edge of my lounge chair making sure that her bare ass rubs up against my leg. She casually glances at my cock to see if that had any effect on me while we continue our introductions.
I tell her I’m a painter and a writer and why I’m here and she just smiles, looks ahead and says, “Cool”. A few silent moments go by before she tells me a little about herself like where she’s from, current relationship status etc. and then falls silent again before returning to her chair and stretching out on it in such a fashion that even a blind man would have noticed her. The look on her face tells me she’s momentarily frustrated with me because her usual moves aren’t getting the desired effect from me and certain parts of my body.
Slowly she starts talking and telling me more about herself. She’s a flight attendant for the same airline Jill, Amy and Jennifer work for. The words are coming faster now like a boulder rolling downhill. She’d done some modeling before she’d gotten married. Had a bad marriage to a “Neanderthal” who took her for granted and abused her. Got divorced, became a “stewardess” and set about enjoying herself. Now she’s talking and getting animated to the point she doesn’t stop talking for about a half hour. She talks with her whole body. There isn’t a static part of her. Her hands, arms, legs, feet, everything is moving and gesturing and dramatically illustrating this story that is her life.
Part way through her adventures in the sky she stops talking abruptly and announces she has to pee. She stands up and I assume is heading off to a restroom, but instead she stops at the end of my chair and, talking all the while, spreads her legs and begins to pee. I’m not sure why but I’ve found more women who enjoy peeing in public and/or on people and themselves than one might imagine.
When I make no motion or say anything she adjusts the stream to hit my feet and smiles. When I laugh she starts moving the stream higher up my legs until she starts bathing my cock in pee………I got immediately hard and as the last drops of piss fall from her pussy she mounts my cock.
“You’re one cool customer, but I knew there had to be a way to get a rise out of you” she laughs.
“This isn’t my first Rodeo.” I reply
She’s obviously proud of herself and honestly I can’t blame her. She’s riding my cock for all its worthwhile I finally get a lip lock on those beautiful nipples I was looking at earlier.
With the warm breeze blowing between our legs and the smells of the island mixing with the smells of our sex………..I was in heaven.
Holly took me into that world she had been in earlier on the patio. The outside world disappeared and the only thing I was aware of was my cock sliding up and into Holly’s pussy as she slammed down on it. My cock was feeling as free as the wind blowing between our legs and if anyone was noticing it didn’t matter. We didn’t care if they watched…. we didn’t care at all about anything. We were both working up a sweat and the pleasure was nothing like I had ever experienced before. My cock was swelling larger and larger inside of her. Her breathing was intense, deliberate and passionate. As she started to find our rhythm she dug her nails into my chest, but not in a painful way. I couldn’t see past her sunglasses but it appeared her eyes were once again closed as both of us put all of our energies into this moment we were having there on a beach, with the sun, wind, sounds, tastes and smells of sex filling the moment to a bursting point. I can’t get enough of her body in my mouth and my hands.
As she started to cum she put more effort into her strokes as she rose and fell on my cock. She dug her feet into the sand for more leverage and as she came down you could hear the soft slap of her ass against my thighs. She was almost keeping time with the soft sounds of the steel drums floating in from somewhere behind us.
Once she started cumming her legs began to shake violently, but she held on long enough for me to join her before she collapsed across me and stayed there breathing hard for a moment.
Without so much as a thank you she climbed off, grabbed her things from the chair next to me and disappeared back into the hotel grounds………….
One of the local “beach merchants” named Mondi had stopped in the shade of a nearby tree and watched our little encounter. As Holly made her way out of sight Mondi just looked at me and laughed as he gathered his collection of shells and jewelry so he could continue on down the beach and make another sale. As he passed by where I was sitting in his tattered and weathered clothes he just shook his head and laughed before saying “ You one crazy mutha mon. You must have balls bigga den da sun.” and then he just continued on down the beach laughing and shaking his head more until he stopped at a nearby couple and went into his sales schpeel yet another time.
I didn’t see Holly the rest of the day. I can’t say that I was all that disappointed. In a place like this there’s enough going on and so many possible playmates to meet that you seldom have time to wonder about one particular person. Even a quiet sail around the bay will turn into an orgy on the high seas with the least little bit of prodding (and a fair amount of rum punch) and from what I had seen and experienced so far EVERYONE was in the mood and had no intentions of getting out of the mood until they stepped off the plane in their home towns and went back to whatever they called reality. In that respect I guess I was different than they were, but I still understood it enough to encourage things along……….I needed the entertainment and who am I to throw a wet towel on a good party.
I went to the “Night Club” at the resort that evening to see what theme they were promoting that night and see whom else I might meet (it’s much easier to surprise myself than read the flyer in my room).
The great thing about a place like this is it doesn’t matter much what you do or don’t wear because chances are it isn’t going to stay on long any ways. As I made my way to the bar I found myself laughing at the disparity the men and women had at the moment.
The guys looked like they’d just come in from mowing the lawn or watching the “Big Game” on TV... except for maybe “Toga Night”. It must be that “Animal House” mentality many men have…I dunno. The women, on the other hand, had put a little more effort into things. They may have been wearing less, but they were definitely dressed to thrill. A woman once told me that women don’t dress for men. They dress for other women and right that moment I knew exactly what she was talking about. I somehow doubt she meant it to the extreme example that was in front of my eyes at that moment though. Women were dancing, kissing, hugging, fingering, and eating each other in every nook and cranny of the room. It was fun to see them perform this odd little ritual of hitting on each other then sucking on their new friends tits as a sort of “How do you do…. Let’s fuck” gesture.
I finally made it to the bar and ordered a drink. In the time it took to get my drink I’d met this cute little brunette from California named Niki. Niki was already pretty well feeling no pain and it was easy to see that when she gets drunk she gets aggressive and gets right to the point. We’re still in the “getting to know you” stage of our conversation and she’s already got the fly of my shorts unzipped and her hand firmly wrapped around my cock with a grip that told me she wasn’t going to let it go until she’d done with it what she wanted to…………and I wasn’t going to complain.
I had ordered another round of drinks for my new friend and me when a body stepped up behind me to the point I thought that the tits attached to that body were going to press right through me. A chin rested on my shoulder and a voice said “Careful…that monster is loaded”…it was Holly.
Niki laughed and said, “That’s what I’m counting on” as Holly stepped around from behind me. She was wearing a gold waist chain, a multicolored silk scarf around her hips, and a pair of high-heeled sandals that made her even taller than she was already and that was all she was wearing. She was smiling that odd smile she had on her face earlier in the day at the beach. Judging from Niki’s reaction I’d say she was as impressed as I was and I guess Holly sensed that as well because she wasted no time in bending over and kissing both of us. Then the two women finished the ritual I’ve already seen a hundred times that night and sucked on each others nipples, all of this with Niki still firmly holding on to my cock that had now grown to about three times its normal size.
Holly took Niki’s hand and started to lead her to the dance floor. Without a moment hesitation Niki let go of my cock and followed her as if she were in a trance out into the middle of the room. Every step she took with Holly drew a bigger smile on her face.
The “Euro-Techno” beat is blaring from the speakers and the red, blue, yellow, amber, green and white lights are rotating through the room. The beat takes on a life of its own starting to sound like the beating of a heart as Holly and Niki move slowly side to side and towards each other. Their hips are starting to make slow, wide circles that seem to draw the two women together and the closer that they get to one another the more they start to touch each other on the arms, hips, face and whatever seems to be readily accessible. The look of lust in their eyes is unmistakable. There’s serious passion building here and both women aren’t the least bit concerned about who notices and even less concerned about who might care…they obviously don’t. These girls are on fire and everyone is getting into it and feeding off of it. So I sit back and enjoy the show. All the time wondering where this is all going to lead, and at the same time not really giving a shit. The only thing I know for certain is that the temperature is climbing off the charts in here and clothes and inhibitions are disappearing with each beat of the music.
Niki, with her small frame is at the perfect height to nuzzle her face into Holly’s tits and kiss them from side to side while she runs her tongue over Holly’s nipples. Holly stops swaying from side to side and begins to move in a rippling motion towards Niki who immediately moves closer and begins to mimic the motion in reverse making sure her hip rubs up against Holly’s pussy in the process. Their hands are moving all over each other’s bodies rhythmically to the music. They’re beginning to perspire and I doubt that it has anything to do with the number of people in the room so close that two hundred pairs of hands could easily reach out and touch those two amazing bodies without much effort at all. As their fingers find all of the hidden, wet places of their bodies their movements become more intense and direct. They both have that look in their eyes that shows just how drunk with lust they are at that moment.
Niki slowly sways side to side as she slides down to her knees in front of Holly without ever taking her tongue away from Holly’s skin. Niki’s now on her knees and has begun to wrap her tongue through Holly’s clit ring and pull her into her mouth. Holly lets out a passionate gasp that can be heard even above the driving tempo of the music. She begins to drive her hips and pussy into Niki’s face in jerky movements that illustrate just how intensely uncontrollable her passion is at the moment. Niki’s hand disappears between her own legs and begins to masturbate frantically and a small puddle of her own cum begins to form on the dance floor between her legs. About this time I see Holly begin to shudder and shake with pleasure as she grabs Niki by the hair and pulls her up to her and begins to kiss her. Then without warning she reaches around her waist and with one ballet like motion she flips Niki upside down and, while still holding onto her begins to eat Niki as Niki resumes her quest to satisfy her new blonde friend. I have to admit that even today I’m still impressed with Holly’s strength and agility…especially when it involves something sexual.
Holly is swaying side to side and moving in circles with her arms firmly wrapped around Niki’s waist while this agile little lady has her legs locked around the back of Holly’s head and the whole time neither of them have missed a beat of the music. As the music pulsates to an end the girls fall on the floor still wrapped in each other and softly kissing their bodies as a quiet thank you for such a public orgasm. It takes them a moment to regain their composure enough to walk across the dance floor and join me at the bar to the applause of everyone in the club. I watch Holly as she moves across the floor. Besides the cat like walk she has that can give even a gay man a hard on there is something about her that draws your eye to her. I watch as she moves effortlessly between all of the sweaty dancing bodies as the colored lights bounce here and there catching parts of her still naked body which shines brightly from the sweat that coats her skin. A Southern Belle I once dated told me “women don’t sweat…they glow.” And right this second I understood what she meant. As the light hits her hair I have a moment of deja vu. There is something familiar about this woman and this type of setting. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s sending a chill up my spine that damn near sobers me up on the spot.
Niki has already made it back next to me and taken my cock in one hand while kissing me between sips of her drink. I’m returning the favor by sliding one finger into her pussy to see how wet she is………….Shit if she were any wetter there would be a puddle as big as the ocean at her feet. Her breathless chatter about how “amazingly intense!” that whole scene was seemed appropriately understated and amusing at the same time so I let her run on without interruption. Besides, she’s beginning to cum again from the attention my fingers have been giving her pussy and it’s fun to see her try and stay with her conversation as she gasps and cums excitedly between words, a huge smile permanently tattooed on her face.
Holly finally arrives at my side with that amused look on her face and leans into me making sure she gets as much body contact as possible. “Buy me a drink,” she whispers. “I left my money in my room”………
Suddenly I remember where I’ve heard this voice and met this amazing cunt.
It was two years earlier in Las Vegas. I was there with a woman I knew named Shari to cover the swinger’s convention. My friend Shari had departed with a group of convention goers to one of their hotel rooms for some serious fucking and I had decided to remain at the bar for another drink before heading up there and jumping into the fray. Five or six showgirls from one of the hotels had arrived and sat down at the bar next to me. Before long we’re all chatting up a hell of a conversation and drinking ourselves silly so I talk them into going with me to the little party upstairs.
After two attempts at entering the wrong room, and some serious frowns from security, we finally got to the right room. What clothing that remained on our bodies that we hadn’t removed in the elevator wasted no time in being deposited in a heap just inside the door. I could make out Shari’s body across the room being fucked wildly by some guy while a woman was sitting on her face. I didn’t need to see her face to know she was in heaven and loving every second of it. It took no time at all for several of my new friends to be swallowed up in the crowd. Two of them were busily sucking my cock into a hardness that I could have driven nails with.
They definitely knew what they were doing. Both blonde, both ready to be played with and I was the guy who was going to do the playing.
Just about the time I thought I was going to blow my wad one of these blonde ladies grabs my hand and leads me towards a bed. There’s a young stud lying on the bed catching his breath after just finishing fucking one of the women there. He sees us coming towards him and he gets immediately hard again so that by the time we get there he’s hard enough for this babe to climb right on and take all of his cock in one smooth motion while she’s still holding onto my hand. She leans forward onto the guy underneath her and guides me around behind her. She lets go of my hand and grabs my cock and guides it towards her ass. I know exactly what she wants and position myself so that I can slide my cock into her ass in one stroke. She lets out one long low groan as I enter her. Once I’m inside she starts rocking back and forth as the other dick and I start pounding inside her. We can feel each other’s cocks inside her and have started countering our strokes. When he’s going deep inside her I’m sliding back and vice versa and this girl wants it all. I can feel her ass begin to spasm. I’ve been with enough women who really loved it up the ass to know she’s on the verge of cumming anally. She’s holding off though I can tell. She wants to cum in her ass and pussy at the same time and I can tell she’s done that before and knows how to do it almost on command. My cock is loving every second of this and I’m about to blow a load myself just as I feel her entire body shudder and convulse. Her ass goes into a demonic spasm that just about squeezes the life out of my cock and I start to cum hard as she starts flopping around like a fish out of water, moaning and gasping and shuddering until she finally collapses on the guy underneath her panting and gulping for air. I start to slide my cock out of her ass and as I do it’s like I’d flipped a switch on her. She jumps up and off of the guy underneath her and wheels around to face me. She falls to her knees and begins to suck on my cock cleaning it with her tongue as she goes. In the process she gets me as stiff as a board again.
She stands up and whispers into my ear “Where’s your room?” while she hangs onto my cock. We waste no time in making our way down the hall, up the elevator, down another hall and into my room still naked and holding our clothes in our hands. I’ve never tried to open a hotel room door while a woman was sucking on my cock, but then again there’s a first time for everything. We ended up falling through the door and onto the floor, where to the best of my alcohol-saturated memory, we stayed for quite a while fucking our brains out and getting carpet burns on various parts of our bodies before crawling up to the bed.
Several hours, and a bottle of scotch later I wake up around noon to find my blonde friend gone………….along with my cash, watch, and some casino chips from my winnings two nights before…………the blonde in question is the same blonde standing next to me now…………Holly. I’m absolutely sure of it now.
Do I tell her? Jog her memory? Does she or has she already made the connection? All good questions, but instead of answering any of them I buy her a drink before I fuck the life out of Niki right there on the bar stool with Holly leaning over my back and shoulders urging me on. I leave both women there at the bar. Holly in the midst of an adoring crowd all wanting their turn at her and Nicki naked, with cum oozing out of her pussy on the bar stool with a dazed look on her face like she’s not sure what just happened to her. I doubt she’ll remember much about tonight tomorrow and I doubt even further that she’ll really care all that much.
With a little help from a member of the staff I make it back to my room and fall on the bed where I don’t remember moving for the rest of the night. I must not have. I’m still in the same clothes and my sandals are still firmly affixed to my feet when a knocking at my door wakes me. After two, less than graceful, attempts to find the door I manage to get the damned thing open to see Holly standing there. “Rise and shine buddy! It’s too nice a morning to be sleeping it away.” She says, in an all too annoyingly, cheerful mood. “Get presentable enough that you won’t scare any children and let’s go for a ride on the beach”………..A “ride on the beach”? I’m thinking to myself as I stumble around trying to make it look like I know what the hell I’m doing. That could mean anything, but no matter what it meant I wasn’t sure I was up for it…in more ways than one.
I fumble around in the bathroom looking for my razor as I take off my clothes to jump in the shower. The whole time Holly hasn’t stopped talking as she lays herself on my bed. She’s wearing a brightly tie-dyed sarong tied around her waist and a gauzy scarf/crop top kinda thingy that does little to hide her tits and nothing else. Her words are moving a mile a second only stopping here and there long enough to let out a slight laugh at points she’s proud of as she recounts everything that happened after I left the night club/party last night. It sounds as if she must have just come from there considering all she tells me and I can’t help but wonder how this woman runs on little or no sleep and endures all of the constant fucking she seems to pack into a day. I find myself admiring her stamina as I step into the shower. I’ve experienced many things in my life but not nearly at the rapid fire pace of the past few days. Quite honestly I’m beginning to wonder if I can keep up with her………or for that matter if I WANT to keep up with her?
She comes into the bathroom and sits on the counter once she realizes I probably can’t hear her out there while the shower is running. I can see her through the clear curtain sitting in the corner on the counter with her right leg drawn up so she can rest her arm and her chin on it. Her sarong (or pario as they like to call them around here) falls to the side and easily exposes her lower body to me. No doubt this is intentional on her part and I must admit she looks great…even if I do know that she’s not all she says she is.
As I step out of the shower she moves her leg so that it arches over the sink and lets her other leg drop off of the side of the counter and brings her pussy to the edge of the sink and then resumes resting her head on her knee. This allows me to gain access to the sink so I can shave and slide a finger along her pussy lips just more to see how wet she might be at the moment than anything else. I take the opportunity to give that little diamond ring around her clit a quick flick and smile at her as I grab my stuff so I can shave. As I turn on the water she lets that smile of hers come over her face and without uttering a word lets go with a stream of piss into the sink all the while never taking her head off of her knee.
As the last droplets of pee fall out of her pussy I slide her off of the counter and bend her over. She spreads her legs to allow me access and in I slide, but little does she know that all I want to do is lubricate my cock………..I have other plans. Without saying a word I pull my cock out of her pussy and using her own juices I spread her cheeks and slide the head of my cock into that beautiful ass of hers. She not only doesn’t resist but also moves back into me and swallows my cock into her ass in one smooth thrust as she smiles at me in the bathroom mirror. As I pull back, she pulls forward. As I move forward she slams back to meet me. Her ass is already spasming and the look in her eyes tells me she isn’t far from cumming as we both quicken our pace. Her breath is coming hard and she’s beginning to show small drops of sweat in the hollow of her spine. She’s gasping and moaning now as she slams hard enough into me that I think she’s going to knock us both over. Suddenly her body goes into a giant convulsion and she is literally shaking from head to toe. I can tell this is no act but genuine orgasm of the highest kind. Without warning I explode inside her. After the night I just had I wasn’t sure I had it in me, but Holly seems to be able to get me to “rise to the occasion”.
She collapses on the counter with my cock still in her ass. She just misses dropping her head into the sink of still running water. “That was the most incredible ass fuck I’ve had in a long time!” she gasps between heavy gulps of air as her face rests on the counter. “Even better than that night in Vegas?” I ask with a sly grin as I let loose a river of pee up her ass.
Her head shoots up to meet my reflection in the mirror. Her mouth is wide open but no words come out. I’m not sure if she’s shocked about me remembering her from Vegas or because I just filled her insides with my piss. In any event her mouth eventually turns back into that smile of hers and without a word she stands up and removes my cock from her ass and sits down on the toilet. “A fuck and an enema …..What a great way to start off the day” she grins at me. “So it was you. I wasn’t sure. I thought I remembered all of the better dicks in my life.” comes her next statement. She says it with a look on her face I can’t quite figure out. Did she know all along that she’d robbed me blind in the middle of the night in Vegas or is it that she’s had so many similar encounters that everyone’s face has become a blur to her? Perhaps a better question is does she really care if anyone recognizes her? Is her surprise sincere or just another act? I haven’t got any answers for any of those questions and something tells me I’m not likely to get reasonable answers to those questions any time soon.
I finish cleaning myself up and getting dressed while Holly chatters endlessly about people she’s met while she’s been here and whom she’s fucked, hasn’t fucked and still wants to fuck. She never once mentions Vegas. She never once looks the least bit embarrassed or apologetic for ripping me off……….it’s as if it never happened. Maybe in her mind it never did. Who knows? All I know is that, even though I enjoy her company, I feel a need to be extremely cautious with this wild woman. I find myself casually touching my pockets to see if my money is still there as I reach for the door and we head downstairs for some breakfast before we head out for this “ride” she wants to take.
It feels cool this morning as we make our way over to the multi-purpose building that is used for the mass meals, nightclub, and activity center here where we’re staying. I’m not sure if it’s really cool outside or if the cold sweats I have from the night before are just so great that it seems cooler than normal. Still I’m determined to make the most of the day and hope that somewhere along the way I recover enough so that I don’t look like someone in need of a hospital or a mortuary.
The place is buzzing with activity of all kinds. The staff is running around trying to cater to the needs of the guests. The guests are eating and playing with each other, some are just talking and laughing among themselves and still others are just sitting back and taking in the visual circus that seems to be a normal day around here. I seem to identify with the later group this morning. I’m perfectly content to sit there and drink my coffee and eat my fruit while saying little if anything……….besides…Holly hasn’t stopped talking since she walked out of my bathroom a short time ago. From what I’m witnessing she has no plans on shutting up in the near future either. I’m half tempted to stick my cock into her mouth just to hear some silence for a few minutes.
The breeze off of the ocean makes its way across the partially open building and blows across the mountains of fruit and fresh baked breads and rolls. The air seems sweeter, almost intoxicating. I feel like I can eat forever…even though I know that would probably be the biggest mistake of my life the way I’m feeling right now. Last night seems to have no effect on Holly. I’m amazed at the amount of food that girl can pack away and yet stay as thin as she is. Hell she even takes eating to a new art form. I get lost in watching her mouth move as all of that food makes its way past her lips. Even now she hasn’t stopped talking, yet instead of looking like some gross display of poor manners she succeeds in doing this with such sensuality that I find my cock rising to attention as if it wanted to crawl up on the table for a better look. I’m so taken in by this display of natural ability that I’m caught off guard when she suddenly stops eating and announces that she’s done. I must have looked as stupid as I felt sitting there with the same fork full of fruit for as long as I had been. If I did she didn’t seem to notice and up we stood. Holly immediately bursts out laughing when she looks down to see the raging hard on trying to find a way out of my shorts. “You’re easily excited today babe” she laughs as we walk away from our table. “Save some of that for later” she laughs again. “It might come in handy!” She’s so proud of her joke and laughing so hard she nearly falls into the bushes on the side of the walkway. I find her reaction funnier than her joke and laugh at her near catastrophe. The thought of her ass up and naked in the bushes has to be the best thing I’ve thought of in a while and I smile along with her not telling her we weren’t laughing at the same thing.
Having grown up around horses I was already painfully aware of the pounding my head was going to take getting on the back of one of those things, but what the hell…………..if it hurts too much I can always throw myself in front of the damned thing and end it all in grand fashion………..or so I was thinking.
As we draw closer to the stables Holly suddenly stops talking about her last flight and the goof balls she had to deal with and becomes an expert in horses and horsemanship. I smile quietly to myself as she carefully studies each animal and decides on one. “This looks like a great stallion” she announces with a little bit of snooty pride in her voice. I couldn’t help but wonder if she could tell the difference between a stallion and a gelding, but then again, she does know a lot about cocks… so I keep my amusement to myself for the moment.
The horses get saddled and a towel is placed on the saddle for Holly since all she has on is that damned pario and on we go. We start down the beach at a brisk walk with Holly telling me all about her many exploits on horses going back to when she was a little girl. Even now I find it hard to imagine her as a little girl.
The beach is beautiful and is rapidly becoming less and less inhabited by people as we wind along the curve of the bay towards a small cliff that meets some of the jungle that still hasn’t been stripped back away from the water by progress. This little stretch of beach is almost story bookish in nature. You feel like you can step back in time as long as you don’t turn around and see the buildings and people behind you. We make our way around a bend to a small cove set back in the jungle with a little stream that runs off the rocks of the cliff in several short waterfalls before emptying into a shallow pond which finally empties into the sea over a small grouping of rocks that had fallen from the cliffs at one point or another. I must admit I hadn’t expected to find such a picturesque little place so close to the hotel.
Holly gets off of her horse and leads him out near the middle of the pond by the reigns. She ties the horses reigns off on the overhanging branch of a tree whose massive arms extend almost to the middle of the pool and removes what little clothing she’s wearing and slowly lays back in to water and begins to float around in the pond with her eyes closed. She says nothing. She has fallen eerily silent and for me it feels right to say nothing and give her the space she seems to be in need of at the moment. Holly is showing me another side of herself and I wonder why? This silent, momentarily serious, naked woman floating in a pond has something on her mind. She doesn’t want to share it right at this time, but she wants me to know it exists without saying so. The wind, the rolling of the ocean and the noise of the birds is the only sounds I hear for what seems like an entire afternoon, but I know it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Without warning or fanfare the spell is broken. She stands up and walks over to me. Giving me a kiss on the cheek she says, “Thanks for coming along”. Still I say nothing. We get on our horses and finish our ride with me saying little and her chattering along without a care in the world again. As we make our way back to the stables I can’t help but wonder what other things have been running through her mind while we were there on the beach or worse, what this woman has up her sleeve? For that matter I couldn’t help but wonder why I had to be along on this ride at all? One thing I know for sure is that with her…it won’t be long before I find out.
We head back to the stables with the smell of some of Jamaica’s finest leading the way and the stable hands are smiling and paying particular attention to us. I know they have no idea what went on out there and honestly neither do I but maybe they assume to know from the smile on Holly’s face. Perhaps they think I just fucked the shit out of her. A thought I’m quite willing to let them believe. Besides, I have several times already, just not on those damned horses.
Holly asks what time it is from one of the stable hands and explains she has to meet someone in a short bit. She says good-bye and how much she enjoyed the ride. We agreed to catch up later in the day or this evening and with that she turns and heads up the walkway back to the hotel. That great looking ass of hers swaying underneath that transparent pario as it disappears over the little hill and out of sight……….leaving me to tip the “oh so stoned” stable hands before heading off to have some lunch. I still have this dazed and confused feeling about the whole thing, but I’m hungrier than concerned right then. I felt like for a moment she let her guard down and that little girl she had been talking about earlier had come out to rest and relax for a moment. She seemed to need a secure moment and I provided the security….. I guess. That thought alone is still enough to send a chill up my spine, even today.
I was making my way down the path to the café enjoying the shade of the palm trees, which line this part of the path, and the relief the shade is giving my skin. The breeze rolling in off of the ocean adds an extra bit of comfort I didn’t realize I needed until that moment. I stop at the bar near the beach and have a drink. The people in the bar seem laid back at the moment. Content to lounge naked and talk amongst them, sizing each other up for potential conquests later on.
I love the bars in this part of the world. They’re all open air, bright colors of red, yellow, blue, green and violet. Most have murals on what walls they do have, that run the range from primitive to highly realistic depictions of island life or life in and around the hotel or resort they’re connected to. There’s always at least one nude woman that looks like she was copied directly from the pages of an old Playboy or some similar magazine. You can always tell the magazine it came from by how crudely the woman is posed and how disinterested she looks. More often than not, they change one or two things like making a blonde woman look more Jamaican and give her black hair or something. I always have fun looking at the walls of these places and trying to get into the mind of the artist that painted these things. Once in a while I come across a less than competent reproduction of one of my old illustrations and, no matter how poorly it was done, I always feel a sense of pride. Such is the case now as I see an old painting of mine reproduced on one side of a corner support. I remember the illustration well. A woman with long, curly blonde hair, her back is to us, but you can see her in the reflection of the full-length mirror she’s standing in front of. To the left of the mirror is an open widow looking out onto the ocean. She has a white gauze dress lying in a heap at her feet like she was in the process of stepping out of it and had gotten distracted. Her right hand is lightly caressing her left nipple while the fingers of her left hand are working their way further into her pussy. Her eyes are half closed and her head is tilted to one side with a look on her face that implies that she’s lost in her own pleasure and whatever thoughts are connected with it. She is very obviously unaware of anything or anyone else in the room. To further add to that feeling I had painted the silhouette of a person standing in the doorway that shows up in the reflection of the woman in the mirror. The way it’s positioned the viewer feels it’s their reflection that they see and makes them part of the painting as well as part of the fantasy. It seems that we’re all voyeurs to someone else’s life at one time or another and sometimes unknowing, or unwilling, participants. As for me, I can only watch for so long and then I have to jump into the middle of things…. and later living to regret some of the things I jumped into. That’s what makes a life a life.
This reproduction I’m looking at has lost some of that in the translation but I feel obligated to praise this unknown artist in some fashion or another, especially since they didn’t seem to change anything from the original illustration. So I ask the bartender if I can borrow the magic marker he has by the cash register and walk over to the wall and write just below the mural “GOOD JOB” and then sign my name. The level of noise in that place fell by half and as I turned around everyone, including the bartender, was looking in my direction. “I painted the original painting this artist used to make this mural.” I said looking self-consciously at the bartender. A broad smile came over his face and he said “Cool Mon” before he turned and resumed tending bar. I walked back over and returned the marker to him as life started to go back to normal in the bar. A few people walked over for a closer look at the mural………..and probably to see what my name was and if they recognized it or not. I wasn’t going to hang around and see if I was famous enough for these people, besides… I was hungry and was still on my way to lunch. I went to pay for my drink and got a friendly “No charge Mon” and a handshake from the bartender. With that I continued my journey up the path to the café. It never occurred to me until later that I should have asked the bartender who painted the wall.
“So you’re the one who painted that picture on the wall?” came a voice floating in the breeze behind me. I half turn to see who was attached to the voice only to find a truly attractive woman I’d never seen before. She had a smile that could stop you in your tracks and hold you there forever. “If I didn’t know better I would think you painted it of me.” She continued with that smile broadening just a little. “Who says I didn’t?” I managed to utter trying to be cool and keep from acting like a complete idiot. “Maybe it was you I was thinking of………but I just hadn’t met the dream girl who would be my muse yet?” “Well then…we should meet then. I’m Tanya.” She laughs back. I make my introduction and explain that the mural on the wall isn’t mine but the painting that they copied from is. The whole time I’m taking in this sight before me. She really does look like the woman in the painting. From the curly sun bleached blonde hair on her head to the shear gauze white dress that’s hanging onto her body that flows in the breeze exposing a tan, womanly, curvy body that thrills my eyes. “I’m glad the mural isn’t yours……. it is a little clumsy.” My eyes are caught in hers as she looks at me as if she’s reading my mind. She’s enjoying the attention my eyes are giving her. “I’d Love to see the original sometime.” She says swaying back and forth while holding the lower part of her dress open to draw in more of the breeze. “Perhaps maybe that can be arranged sometime in the future?” She asks, lowering her voice just a little. “Could you tell me about why you painted it?”
I wasn’t about to let this woman out of my sight right that moment. She was the most interesting person I had met yet so I quickly invited her to join me for lunch and we started up the walk together while I began telling her the story of the painting. I was trying hard not to sound self-important and explain what it was I do for a living. I found myself telling her that I was one of the few people who were lucky enough to illustrate what I had written from time to time and that the painting in question was just that……….an illustration for a story written some time ago about an experience that, at the time, seemed unique and worthy of putting in print. A small sense of de JA vu came over me as I remember having a similar conversation with Holly just the other day on the beach. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was going to lead in the same direction that conversation went.
She was full of questions. All of which I found myself answering with self-effacing honesty. It never once occurred to me to baffle her with bullshit. She was a delight to talk to, smart, funny…enchanting. She even caught the paraphrased nod to Picasso I used on her when she first asked about the painting. He would approach a beautiful young prospect and say to them “At last I meet you. I have painted you several times from memory. Not knowing you really existed. Would you like to come back to my studio and see yourself on canvas?” More often than not they would agree and quickly became his lover of the day, week, month or year depending on how pliable they were and how subservient he could get them to be.
There was a glint in Tanya’s eyes when she mentioned the notorious come-on, which made me wonder what part of that whole thing fascinated her so. I made a mental note to explore that thought more at a later time.
I was so taken with this woman I hardly noticed running into Niki………….literally. I sent the poor girl flying back in the direction she had just come from bouncing on her ass the whole way. Once she skidded to a stop she wasn’t sure which part of her body to grab first or whether to laugh, cry or do both. As it was she was looking a little rough around the edges from last night and the way she was holding her head in one hand and moaning she was still in a world of hurt from a little too much partying the night before.
Tanya and I laughed as we tried to right her and Niki tried her best to laugh but it was obvious this just made her head hurt worse. Feeling somewhat obligated I invited her to join us for lunch as well. My guess was the food would do her some good. Off the three of us go, Tanya on one side of Niki and me on the other, both of us doing our best to keep her steady. We must have looked like the Scarecrow and the Tin Man helping Dorothy down the Yellow Brick Road.
We sat Niki down at a table and went to the buffet to get her something to eat. Tanya was still acting like she was hanging on my every word and I was finding myself captivated by this even if it did make me feel a little like I was being interviewed. I was hearing no internal alarms. Feeling no red flags. I’m not even sure I noticed anything that was going on in the café except watching Tanya’s perfect ass as she walked in front of me back to the table.
As lunch progressed Niki started to come alive and become more the animated person I recalled from last night. I could tell the food was hitting her system as she started moving her arms in exaggerated gestures while she illustrated parts of the stories she was telling us with her hands. She entertained us all through lunch and had Tanya and I laughing so hard our sides hurt as she re-lived some of her exploits that she’d had at the hotel so far. She was bawdy, direct and funny and, judging from the look on Tanya’s face, not at all out of bounds with what she was saying. “At least she doesn’t seem to be a prude,” I was thinking to myself. “Of course a prude wouldn’t be staying in a place like this,” I also thought. This made me laugh at my own absurdity. The girls stopped talking and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind then started laughing themselves before Niki resumed her stories.
We finally finished lunch and as we were standing up I found myself in the awkward situation of not knowing what to do next. I was running ideas through my head as to what to say or suggest doing when Niki suddenly opened her mouth again and came up with a wonderful idea.
“I need to go into Montego Bay and do some shopping. Would you two like to join me?” she said while playfully eyeing both of us. Tanya quickly accepted the invitation but said she had to change clothes first………an idea that Niki and I both quickly talked her out of. After a quick stop to grab purses and rent a Jeep the three of us were heading down Highway A-1 along the coast towards Montego Bay with me driving and Tanya sitting in front next to me. While Niki straddled the space between the seats talking up a storm about this and that while she made sure to touch Tanya and me as much as possible. All the while letting her skirt blow up around her chest exposing her very naked body underneath it certainly was a beautiful view. The ocean on one side of me, the landscape on the other and two beautiful women within arms reach. I could see Tanya was enjoying the ride and Niki. Tanya had turned in her seat towards Niki so that she could look at her and me while Niki kept on talking. Tanya would laugh at Niki’s stories and stroke the inside of her thigh. Now and then she would look in my direction to see if I was paying attention (and I was) and give me a soft smile and squeeze my arm. The wind was blowing her hair back from her face and causing her dress to take on a life of it’s own which made her look even better………..if that were possible.
As we drew closer to Montego Bay Niki started giving me directions to a shop she wanted to go to first. “This is a great place Holly told me about last night.” She tells us. “I want to get my hood pierced like Holly’s and this is where she had her’s done at.”
“You want to what?” Tanya asked with a sound in her voice and a look on her face that clearly said she had no idea what Niki was talking about.
“You know…a hood piercing. A ring that goes right here.” She explains as she spreads her legs and moves the lips of her pussy apart with two of her fingers while pointing to the exact spot with her other hand.
Tanya reaches between Niki’s legs and with her thumb and forefinger grabs hold of Niki’s clit while saying, “Right there huh?”
“MMMMMMMMMMMM” is all Nicki can say as her eyes widen and a big smile comes across her face. “That’s the spot!” she says half laughing.
“THIS I will have to see” Tanya says matching Niki’s laughter, but making no attempt to remove her hold on Niki’s clit. As she massages Niki’s clit back and forth in her fingers she looks at me and says, “If it’s as good as she says it is……….I may have to get one myself.” With this a devilish smile comes across Tanya’s face that makes me laugh out loud.
We turn back towards the beach on Barnette St. and headed towards St. James St. where we find a place to park and head down the street to the shop. We cross several streets before arriving at the storefront shop that announces TATTOO’S and BODY PIERCING in the colorful window filled with painted parrots and palm trees.
The noise level is cut almost in half upon walking into the shop and is replaced by reggae music coming from a stereo at the back of the shop.
It’s dark inside, in a comfortable way. It’s also cooler which seems to put us all immediately at ease.
A curtain is pulled back just to the right of the stereo and a man emerges through it. He’s tall with the muscular body of an athlete. He wears well-kept cornrows and a white tank top and drawstring pants that make his dark skin seem even darker. As he sees us a broad smile comes over his face and as he gets closer he greets us with a “Good afternoon… My name is Michael, what may I do for you today?’
Judging from the collective gasp that came out of both women I’m going to guess they found him charming and attractive.
Niki wastes no time in sliding up next to him and explaining what it is she wants done and lifting her skirt to show him. I suspect he already knew where she was talking about but the twinkle in his eyes said he was enjoying the show while trying to be very “matter of fact” about the whole thing. Tanya remained silent not letting on as to whether she did or didn’t want to have anything done to her own body. My guess was she wanted to wait and see what all was involved before committing to something herself. I can’t say I blamed her for that, but I couldn’t help but give her a playful look that caused her to look back in a way that could only mean, “ Don’t you dare say a word or I’ll cut your balls off!!” and to which I found myself laughing out loud. Tanya smiled and laughed in such a way that I knew she was OK with what’s going on and we turned our attention back to Niki and our new friend Michael the body piercer.
As he explains the procedure to Niki he leads us to a room back behind the curtain. In the room is a chair that looks like something a Gynecologist would use sitting in the middle of the room. Along the one wall are a table with a box of rubber gloves on it and a rack with about a dozen drawers in it. Next to the rack is a smaller box with compartments in it along with large bottles of various sterilizing solutions. There is a metal tray with a white towel on it, which he starts placing items he has begun taking from the drawers and compartments. He fills a glass dish with some solution then brings the tray over to Niki. On it is about a half dozen different rings of which Niki chooses one and he takes the tray back to the table where he opens the package and drops the ring into the solution. He then crosses the room and gets a towel off of a shelf and lays it down on the seat and motions for Niki to sit down while he suggests she lift her skirt up around her waist before sitting down. She lets out an “Ahhhhhhhh what the hell!” and takes the dress completely off and seats her naked body on the chair while handing Tanya her dress.
Michael lifts each one of Niki’s legs and places her feet in the stirrups then rolls a small table with the tray of tools, a bottle of alcohol, some cotton balls, a marker and the dish with the ring in it over next to the chair. He then goes and washes his hands before donning a pair of rubber gloves and taking his place on a small stool between Niki’s legs.
Michael takes what look like a small pair of pliers with holes on the end from the tray and the marker. As he grabs a hold of the area just behind her clit he gently pulls it towards him as he examines both sides of the area he’s going to pierce and makes a small mark with the pen then re-examines both sides. Unhappy with the alignment of the dots he wipes one side clean with a cotton ball before applying another dot. Niki is in ecstasy and has begun to rub her nipples with her eyes closed and her breathing becoming harder and shorter.
Tanya is mesmerized by what she is seeing. Her eyes are as big as saucers and her mouth is slightly open as she stares at the sight before her. Her nipples are so hard they’re trying to explode through the flimsy gauze of her dress and her breathing is beginning to match Niki’s. Tanya has grabbed on to my arm by looping hers in mine, still tightly holding on to Niki’s dress and has unconsciously begun rubbing my chest with her free hand while never taking her eyes off of Michael as he continues to work between Niki’s legs.
Still not happy with the alignment of the dots Michael has once again begun to wipe one side clean. With that Niki opens her eyes and looks down at Michael and screams “Either pierce me of fuck me but do something quick before I cum here!” “Both can be arranged, but first things first dear lady.” He speaks in that thick Jamaican accent of his and we all laugh.
Satisfied with the markings he clamps a device over the markings and………bingo. Before Niki can tell what has happened. The piercing needle has found its mark. Niki starts to shudder as she begins to cum and Michael begins to insert her new ring into its new home. “What do you think?” Michael asks as he wipes the piercing clean with a cotton ball with yet another solution on it. “WOW!” is all Niki can say between gasps of air. After a moment or two she manages to add “That was REALLY intense!” Tania’s hand has moved down to my pants and she has been rubbing and squeezing my cock until I think I’m going to cum all over the inside of my shorts. Fortunately Michael picks that moment to look at Tanya and asks “and what about you pretty lady…would you like something done as well?”
You could barely hear her say “yes” as she stepped towards the chair and, following Niki’s lead, began to remove her dress as well. She hands me her dress and Niki’s that she had been holding onto. I laughed when I looked at Niki’s dress. Tanya had damned near twisted it into a knot without realizing it and all I could think of is that I hope Niki is into the wrinkled look. Tanya standing naked next to me was an incredible sight as she stood there waiting for Niki to vacate the chair for her turn.
Niki, still panting and enjoying the moment, drunkenly removes her feet from the stirrups and makes her way over to my side where she leans against me for support.
Tanya waits for Michael to change the towel on the chair and clean up from Niki, then get fresh items from their respective places.
It seems to take only half as long for everything to play out the second time, but the effects were definitely the same. It was one of the fastest selections of jewelry I can ever remember a woman making. The erotic trance she was in had completely taken her over. Tanya is lying in the chair panting. Staring absently at the ceiling and not seeming to notice Michael setting her feet in the stirrups or sliding his finger into her pussy. As she becomes more aware of what’s going on she begins to slowly fuck his finger. She rocks slowly and methodically back and forth as her gaze falls from the ceiling to meet Michaels face. He smiles gently and puts his whole hand down on her pussy and presses her into the seat and holds her still until she catches on and stays still on her own. Seeing his hand resting on Tanya’s pussy must have been more than Niki could handle. Quite honestly it was causing certain parts of my body to sit up and take notice as well.
Niki has been trying to rub her newly pierced pussy against my leg with painful results as she playfully bit my nipple through my shirt, but as she sees things heating up over at the chair and Michael’s hand still resting on Tanya’s pussy she quickly moves over behind Michael and begins stroking his body from behind. Michael calmly and good-naturedly turns and moves her back while smiling and softly saying to her “Not now lovely lady…you don’t want me to hurt your friend now do you?” With a playful little pouty school girl look she whimpers and stomps one foot on the ground which must have shaken her newly pierced pussy to it’s roots because she immediately got this painfully pleasurable look on her face and she stopped dead in her tracks and quietly hobbled back over to where I was standing and leaned into me like a wounded animal for support.
This all caused me to laugh out loud, which distracted Tanya at just the right time. As she looked over at me to see what I was laughing about a gasp escaped from her lips as Michael ran the piercing needle through her hood and began inserting the ring.
Tanya looked flushed and slightly dazed as she lay back in the chair. She didn’t look like she had any intention of going anywhere any time soon. She glanced over to me and held out her hand. So I removed Niki from me and settled her onto a stool for a moment while I moved towards Tanya. She made no attempt to cover herself up or close her legs as I came up beside her. She just took my hand and pulled me to her and kissed me. There was a very soft and warm look in her eyes that seemed out of place given where we were and what has been happening, but still she seemed quite content to be where she was, how she was and who she was with. I’m sure it all seemed like a dream to her at the moment, but it obviously was a good dream to her. She was drunk. Drunk on pleasure and the small adventure she had just experienced. I sensed a door opening inside her and a part of her hidden away for a while stepping out into the light. From the look on her face it wasn’t going to go back inside any time soon. I can’t say I’d be disappointed by this fact if it turns out to be true.
The euphoria of the new piercing had finally worn off for Niki and the pain of a new piercing was rapidly replacing it. She began to walk like an old cowboy and it was clear to her that she wasn’t going to be fucking anyone for a day or two but the smile on her face told the world she was proud of her accomplishment and was going to enjoy showing it off.
She wasn’t about to let a little pain spoil her plans for Michael though, no matter what. She was going to take him one way or the other. She walked over to where he was disposing of the materials he had used on Tanya and began rubbing his back again. With each pass of her hands she would grab some of his shirt and pull it up exposing more of his back. She began kissing his back as she continued to rub.
Michael continued to finish what he was doing seemingly taking all of this in stride, turning his head now and then and giving her a smile, until he was through putting things away. Then he turned to face Niki. She wasted no time in undoing his pants and guiding them to the floor exposing his cock to her face as she kneeled to push his pants down further and off.
Niki’s mouth was on his cock in record time. She looked like a starving woman who hadn’t eaten in a month. It’s amazing she didn’t pass out from not breathing and Michael was certainly enjoying the attention. Michael began to rock slowly back and forth and met Niki’s movements as she would slide forward and further down his cock. With each thrust forward she took more and more of him deep into her throat. Michael leaned back against the table behind him so that he and Niki didn’t tumble to the floor as her movements became more deliberate and intense.
Tanya was entranced by this show of skill Niki was putting on. She was still holding tightly to my hand, but her other hand was gently stroking her body. She never for a moment took her eyes off of Niki and Michael. Her hand made its way down to her newly pierced clit and she very tenderly tested the area to see how it would react to stimulation. Judging from her reaction it wasn’t entirely receptive to the idea of being touched yet she continued to touch her clit and began to rub the area with the lightest of contact. Her breathing began to grow deeper and quicker. The grip she had on my hand was so tight I thought she was going to break my fingers. Michael began to moan as Niki’s movements reached a frenzied speed. As Michael’s moans began to grow louder Tanya’s eyes grew wider not wanting to miss anything that was happening. She had now buried two fingers deep inside her pussy and was still gently rubbing her clit with her thumb. Tanya had let go of my hand and was absently trying to undo my shorts but was failing miserably at the task for obvious reasons. I undid my pants and let them drop to the floor. Tanya wasted no time in taking hold of my cock and stroking it.
Michael began to cum and as he did Niki made every effort to swallow all of it. Tanya was right behind him. She shook from head toe and she drove her fingers even deeper inside of her pussy. As she was Cumming she turned her attention to my cock, which was just, inches from her face and began to wrap her lips around it as she moaned and shook even harder. Damn she was good! She was better than the blowjob I had gotten at breakfast the other day. Tanya couldn’t stop Cumming. It seemed like fifteen minutes before her body stopped its spasms and her breathing returned to normal.
Niki pulled herself up off of the floor and came over to us with Michael not far behind. Niki began to lightly kiss Tanya’s nipples and stroked the inner part of her thighs. This made Tanya cum again even harder for a moment. She was shaking so hard her chair was rattling like a pair of cheap castanets. Then suddenly she went quiet. I was quite a ways from cumming but I knew I should withdraw my cock from her mouth. I did so and kissed her lightly as she looked me in the eyes with a very contented look flashing in hers. She then leaned over and kissed Niki and Michael who had stepped up on the other side of the chair.
The music had stopped. It was quiet in the shop and the coolness that had once been there seemed to be replaced with a warm, humid, musky odor that was both calming yet uncomfortable. Michael sensed this and turned a fan on to help cool us all down while the girls regained the use of their limbs enough to dress themselves and prepare to walk back to the jeep. After a period of time, and much effort, the girls were ready to face the world and attempt walking with their newly pierced body parts. So we said good-bye to Michael with both girls promising to stop back and see him before they left and we stepped back into reality.
It seemed to have gotten busier on the street while we were in the shop………or maybe we just hadn’t noticed as much before, either way it was louder, and more frantic, than we remembered it…and brighter too. All of us wasted no time in putting our sunglasses on to fight the brightness of the scene in front of us. The girls were alternating between moans and laughs as they looked at each other while we negotiated the crowds on the sidewalk.
We got to the corner and were discussing the merits of finding a place to get a drink and get off of their “ummmm feet” as Niki put it while we were waiting for traffic to clear before crossing to our jeep.
I was trying to look across the street and see how much further it was to our jeep when my eyes catch a sight I wasn’t prepared for. There was Holly dressed in jeans and a tank top leaning against the wall of a building in the shade with a very tall large black man with one hand on the wall leaning into her. Now this in itself isn’t odd, I’ve quickly discovered, but the knife at her throat was a new twist and my adrenalin suddenly kicks into overdrive and I start jumping around like my pants are on fire. My mind began to race frantically. I often wondered if the stories one hears about “the moment of clarity” people experience at a time of crisis are true. I can now tell you that as I scanned the street and watched what was taking place across the way in the shade, I have never seen things as clearly as I did at that moment. “Hey…YOU! FAT GUY! What are you doing? Holly!..... Holly!” I start shouting. Niki and Tanya both look in the direction of my shouting and see what’s going on. Suddenly the pain between their legs doesn’t exist and the three of us are trying to get Holly’s attention as we try and find a break in traffic. Instead of the traffic getting lighter it gets heavier and more impossible to cross.
I begin shouting “Hey you dumb, ugly fuck! I’m talking to you!” This, much to my dismay, seems to only get the attention of everyone but the guy with the knife at Holly’s throat and Holly.
Finally, all of our shouting pays off and Holly and the man she’s with look in our direction only to loose sight of them as the traffic blocks our view for a moment. When the traffic clears…both are gone. I must have looked like to world’s fastest man as I raced across that street and began looking for her. I was sure I was going to find her dead or bleeding behind the building, but she wasn’t there.
It took the girls a short while to make it across the street in their current condition, but they eventually caught up with me and were equally shocked/ relieved not to find Holly laid out in the dirt with a knife in her.
We checked everywhere behind the building, the bushes the trash bins. We even checked the adjoining shops…no Holly. Stepping into a small market my eye catches sight of a small boy of about two years old. He has a happily determined smile on his face as he mightily pushes the small shopping cart down the isle with his mother standing over him quietly guiding the cart when he isn’t looking up and all the while she’s encouraging him further by telling him what a strong boy he is to push the cart so well. Each word in his mother’s thick, dark, quiet voice causes him to smile even more than before. The aroma’s of the vegetables and herbs are strong and hypnotic and add another surreal level to the helpless anxiety I’m feeling at that moment.
They say ignorance is bliss. Right at that moment the thought of what I didn’t know about Holly was dangerous…possibly deadly…possibly both, but it was anything but blissful.
I watched the young boy continue to push the cart further down the isle and allowed my eyes to look up and scan the rest of the small market. The few remaining customers were all locals, not the blonde person I was hoping to find in there so I turned to leave.
I caught sight of my gift shop lady a few isles over. She smiled a sly smile as I nodded to her and said, “You look like you’ve lost something”. I told her I thought I had seen a friend from the hotel come in here and she began laughing at me. “Blonde ladies don’t shop here much…they tend to stand out too much and most have no use for what’s in here. Even one’s who like attention.” She said to me still laughing and shaking her head.
“Did you see her?” I asked a little more anxiously than I probably should have. “No, I saw no one. What…or whom, you are seeking is probably a long way from here.” Came her answer as she continued to smile at me in amusement.
I took another look around the store wondering what the hell she meant by that and then I nodded to her again as I made my way out the door and back into the street and Tanya and Niki. It seemed like we couldn’t get back to our car fast enough.
Tanya’s eyes were big, concerned, and she seemed pale even through her tan. Niki was…well…. Niki, but with a concerned edge to her. Other than looking like she’d been riding a horse for three days solid, she seemed only mildly affected by everything that had just happened.
We spent the next hour driving around looking for Holly before heading back to the hotel to see if she’d gotten back. The sexual euphoria of the afternoon had been replaced by concern; anxiety and a whole lot of “what if’s” that made our skin crawl and our imaginations work overtime. It was hardly the happy little road trip we had hoped for.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach said whatever was going on it wasn’t a random act of violence against a tourist. It was more likely something in Holly’s past catching up to her and that thought made me more anxious.
The valet at the hotel told us that yes she had returned some time ago and then had just left again. She told him she was going to Ric’s for a while for some fun. I owed the girls a drink so off we went to Ric’s to have that drink and find out what the hell all of that was about from Holly.
Ric’s is always busy. It’s a destination place for many of the male guests on the island during the day. They head over and park themselves on a stool facing down the beach and hope for an eyeful of naked women and the fantasy that these women had made their way inside this place hoping that he would be there in his current inebriated state and satisfy her beyond her wildest dreams. The drunker they get the more the fantasy takes hold and the bolder they get and the worse the innuendo gets. Some will even get brave enough to jump off of one of the trees or cliffs into the ocean along with the locals (who are paid to do that) in hopes of impressing someone.
Sometimes they get lucky…more often than not they get tossed out on their ass…. Much to the amusement of his intended conquest. Women love assholes, just not drunk ones…go figure.
We pull up to Ric’s as another male body is flying out the door and into the dirt while the mix of reggae, dancehall and American Pop music filter out the door. The yuppie dweeb doesn’t know whether to dust his ass off, say something to the bouncer or make sure he got his Gold/Platinum/Titanium/ Black Card back from the bartender before staggering back to his rental car. As this unfortunate soul stands up to collect himself. I realize it my new pal Harvey sans his other companions. He sees me and immediately looks embarrassed. I can see he isn’t sure whether to say hello or act like he doesn’t know me. He sheepishly waves as he makes his way to his car and drives out of the parking lot never looking in our direction as he heads back towards the resort. The sight of all of this causes the girls and me to have a quick laugh and forget the serious reason we’re there for the moment. As we step through the door the normally loud, colorful and fun atmosphere of the place takes on an odd feel about it as our eyes scan the crowd in hopes of finding Holly…with all of her limbs attached. Nothing misses my gaze and under different circumstances I might have taken more interest in what was going on in the bar. The more my look doesn’t find Holly…. the more frustrating my search becomes. Even Tanya is expressing concern and I don’t even think they know each other.
Niki finally sees her at the far side of the bar and we head over to where she’s having a rather animated conversation with several men. This conversation seems lighthearted and non-threatening…. unlike the conversation we had witnessed earlier. Holly still had on the tank top we had seen her in earlier, but she had ditched the jeans and was wearing only what could be described as the world’s smallest thong bikini bottom. It wasn’t, nor couldn’t, hide much if it needed to. It left nothing to the imagination. Judging from where these guy’s eyes were staring that was what she was hoping for and in typical Holly fashion she was milking it for all it was worth.
Niki’s tiny little legs, sore pussy and all, are blazing across the room. “What the hell was that all about? I hear her asking before Tanya and I can catch up to her. Holly turns around and has genuinely surprised look on her face. “What are you talking about?” she asks as she smiles and hugs Niki all the while looking back at Tanya and me as we approach. The look in her eyes tells me she’s not happy about something, but the smile never leaves her face. I introduce Tanya to Holly which under the circumstances, could be described as polite, but tentative on both women’s parts and then hit her with what we had seen. Holly laughed it off and said we were imagining things and that she was merely being hit on by one of the locals “no drama, no big deal” as she put it. None of us were buying it, but we left it alone for the moment as Holly quickly changed the subject and ordered drinks for all of us. While the drinks were being made Tanya and Niki excused themselves to use the ladies room. No doubt to tend to their wounds, which I can only imagine, had gotten pretty sore right about now. The girls had barely gotten out of sight when Holly’s smile turned into a glare and she’s in my face yelling under her breath “You ASSHOLE!!!! You almost got me killed this afternoon!” “No drama, no big deal eh? From where I was standing this afternoon it looked like I was saving your ass not getting it killed ” I laugh back at her not the least bit threatened by her sudden change in attitude. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” I say with a little more seriousness as I lean into the bar to take a sip of my drink, which had just arrived. “Let’s just call it a disagreement over a business deal I’d had with that guy and leave it at that.” She says staring into my eyes as if to emphasize her words and put an end to any further discussion on the subject. I just smile and take another sip of my drink and say while shaking my head “I don’t buy it. We both know that’s bullshit.” I would have said more but I could see the girls were getting back from the ladies room so I just looked at Holly and smiled “Saved by the bell” and continued to work on my drink. Holly glared at me one more time and said one more “asshole!” under her breath before smiling and turning to greet the ladies. Tanya glances seriously at both of us as she approaches. The glance seems to mirror the change in her mood and I find myself wondering why? I’m guessing that she’s trying to get a handle on what, if anything, Holly and I are doing together so I set about mentally figuring out how I’m going to explain this and when. The meeting and the sex part are easy. The knife at the throat part may be a little more difficult and quite honestly I don’t even know myself what went on, but I do know I need an answer and it had better not be a bullshit answer. By the look on Tanya’s face…the sooner the better. She’s, no doubt, wondering what she’s gotten herself into. I’m not sure I have an answer for that question myself. I’m not sure there is an answer…HELL, I’m not sure of anything right now!
To say the scene at the bar was tense would be an understatement. No amount of booze was going to make it better anytime soon. Niki, Tanya, and I wanted answers and Holly was doing her level best to avoid the whole thing and act like there was nothing wrong.
Eventually Holly made an excuse that she had to get back to the hotel to meet some people for dinner. The other three of us figured we’d had enough fun for one day so we left as well and headed back to the hotel to get cleaned up for dinner ourselves.
The drive back was quiet. None of us seemed to be able to make eye contact with each other nor could we seem to find the words to talk about the events of the afternoon. We just stared out into the early evening light as it played across the landscape. What had happened this afternoon had taken the magic away. I felt like a stranger in a strange land and I can only imagine the girl’s felt similarly.
Upon arriving back at the hotel we all agreed to meet for dinner in an hour and headed towards our rooms. I made my way through the lobby and to the corridor leading to my room. As I started down the hall I passed the shop lady I had run into in town. She was now dressed in her shop outfit. A large smile came across her face as she nodded in my direction, but she said nothing. She passed me without a sound and continued in the opposite direction, never once glancing back. I, however, stopped for a moment and watched as she walked further away and through the crowd beginning to move towards the café’. I turned and continued my trek back to my room.
A short distance further down the hall a large, well-dressed, black man passed me as our eyes locked in a very cold stare. A polite nod and he continued to move past me. My defenses shot into overdrive as my brain was getting around to recognizing this guy as the “gentleman” who had been talking to Holly earlier today. As I turned to see where the guy was a giant fist goes whizzing by my head just missing making contact. I turn fully around to see that he had put so much force behind that blow his body was falling out of position. I instinctively grab his arm and try and force his motion further forward until his head makes contact with the wall. As his head recoils from the impact I step on his leg just behind the knee and drive him down to the floor and his head back into the wall to which he collapses to the floor dazed and incapable of moving… or so I thought. As I reached down to grab this guy and find out what the hell he wants with me, and for that matter Holly, when his left fist finds the side of my head this time and sends me flying back down the hallway and bouncing on my butt and back for some distance before finally coming to a stop. I’m still trying to figure out how many frequent flier miles I got for that trip when he’s grabbing me by the shirt and pulling me into his face. “I’m only going to tell you once…stay out of my business!” he says rather quietly through clenched teeth before dropping me back to the floor and walking away. The few people in the hallway who had noticed our little discussion made no attempt to intervene. In fact they made a wide path for this guy as he enters the stairway to the lobby and crosses to and out the front door of the hotel. It wasn’t until he was well out of sight that someone actually came over and helped me to my feet and one of the guys from the hotel appeared from the crowd to help me to my room.
By the time we made it to my room there were two security guards and the hotel doctor waiting inside for me. I explained that it was a case of mistaken identity to the security people while the doctor did a quick exam and concluded nothing was broken and the worst that had happened is I got my bells rung. He orders me an icepack and ice. I order a bottle of bourbon to go with it.
The security people are a tougher sell. They’re not buying my story. I get the impression they know this guy, or at least know of him. They ask me if I’ve been trying to buy drugs while on the island. From the look on my face they quickly conclude that wasn’t the case and tell me they’ll keep a closer watch on my room and me to make sure nothing else happens during my stay. I wrestle with the idea of saying something about Holly, but for some reason I talk myself out of it.
About the time the security guys are finishing up and leaving my icepack and bourbon arrive. I pour myself a large drink and settle into a chair on the balcony with my icepack and my thoughts. The icepack was doing the trick, helped along by the breeze coming in off the ocean. The throbbing in my head was subsiding a little thanks to the painkiller the doctor had given me and the bourbon. In spite of the reason that I’m sitting there the magic has momentarily returned for me as I look up at some moonlit clouds passing by.
My train of thought is broken by the knock on my door. I wander over and peer through the peephole to see Tanya standing there. I open the door and before she can get a third of the way through asking me why I hadn’t been at dinner she stops as a shocked look crosses her face upon seeing the icepack stuck to the side of my head. “What happened!?” came her question with more than a little maternal concern attached to it.
“I ran into the guy who was with Holly this afternoon.” I tried to say as matter of factly as possible.
“Here in the hotel?!”
“What was he doing here?”
“Looking for Holly I would imagine.” I said before continuing with “We ran into each other in the hallway and he sucker-punched me. It’s not that big a deal and he’s gone. Security is aware of it and they’re watching for him.”
“Did he find Holly?” came her immediate response. “I honestly don’t know, but I doubt it, besides, like I said, security is on it.”
Tanya is getting more agitated and animated by the second and the questions are coming just as fast like “what is up with her?” and “how did you meet her?” and “what is your involvement with her?”… All of which I answer as quickly and accurately as possible without adding to the pounding that is still going on in my head in spite of the meds I had taken earlier.
At one point I can’t take it anymore and I grab Tanya and kiss her. Not only did I need a moment of silence, but also I had wanted to kiss her all day and hadn’t gotten around to really doing that and just being alone with her. Even at the piercing salon our intimacy had been a byproduct of an intense experience. Right now probably was too, but we didn’t have to share the feeling with anyone else but each other. The moment wasn’t lost on her. Her body language changed, softened. The fear and concern in her eyes was giving way to passion, albeit a cautious passion. Then we kissed again before softly falling back on the bed. As I brushed the hair away from her face she looked up at me and quietly says, “I think I’m still a little too sore to play tonight.” I tell her it’s OK because “I’m not feeling myself tonight either.” As I rub the side of my head which causes both of us to laugh and hug each other.
We held onto one another, occasionally kissing and talking quietly until we both fell asleep.
The next morning I awoke to find myself alone in my bed. I somehow wasn’t surprised. I crawled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom to take a piss. As I came back into the room I caught someone out of the corner of my eye on the balcony. It was Tanya naked leaning against the rail looking out at the beach, her blonde hair dancing against her bronze skin in the breeze. You could see Mondi, my favorite shell salesman, already hard at work on the beach trying to get the early rising sun worshippers to buy something from him. I stepped up behind her and put my hands on her shoulders and she leans back into me content and relaxed. As I kiss her on the cheek she turns to face me with a warm smile before she buries her head in my chest and she puts her arms around me and holds me. “Thank-you for last night.” She says so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “Thank-you for what?” I ask a little surprised “we didn’t do anything except sleep. Admittedly that was nice, but it was hardly a noteworthy feat. ” I say smiling down at her. “That’s what I mean.” She says. “You don’t know how nice it was not to feel worried about not doing anything. For the first time all day yesterday I felt safe and that felt better than sex for me last night. Besides…I’m not so sure certain parts of me would have co-operated.” She continued while looking down at her pussy before looking up at me and laughing.
She looked amazing this morning. Neither of us was in any hurry to let go of each other and every time our lips touched a shot of adrenalin shot through my body. The, ever growing, stiffness of my cock hadn’t gone un-noticed and Tanya would reach between us and softly stroke the entire length of my shaft causing it to lurch back and forth. Both of us began to kiss more passionately and breathe harder until she turns away from me, bends over and grabs the rail of the balcony with both hands while thrusting her ass towards me. She looks back at me passionately happy as I gently guide my cock into her pussy being careful to avoid her piercing as much as possible. As I begin to slide deep into her a sigh floats out of her mouth and she once again glances back to me and we lock eyes as we start to find our rhythm and I grab her hips to help keep us in sync. My strokes are long, fluid and easy inside her wet, silky, softness. We trade gasps of pleasure that flow into the morning breeze while our tempo increases slowly and easily. Time comes to a complete stop and the only thing we’re aware of is each other and this feeling that is growing between us. The sex, as great as it is, has taken a backseat to this feeling that is swarming around us and through us. Our sweat has blended together into a musky scent that carries us to a feeling of intoxication as we both shudder and explode in one giant orgasm that nearly throws us off the balcony. As we grab the railing and regain our balance and our breathing we start to hear the clapping of the people who had stopped their walks underneath our balcony and voyeuristically watched our little morning interlude. Once we realized what had happened we both looked at each other and laughed. With one grand gesture and bow I turn and grab Tanya and walk her back into the room to the last waning sounds of applause.
The intensity of the moment hasn’t faded as we both step into the shower and clean ourselves up and tenderly wash one another. We dry off, dress and head out for some breakfast. Yesterday and all that had happened seem a million miles away at the moment. We walk silently together with her holding my hand. We saw a much more sober Harvey and his wife sitting at an outside table and waved at them but didn’t stop to talk. Neither of us was feeling sociable at that moment. Besides I had no idea how much Harvey’s wife knew about his airborne exit from Ric’s yesterday and that might be more than he’s willing to deal with this morning.
I have fucked many women in my life and have enjoyed the company of most, if not all, of them. Yet for whatever inexplicable reason this encounter has made an impact on me like I have never experienced before. I find myself, for the first time in my life, at a loss as to what to do with this new unfamiliar feeling, and on more than one level, unsure of what to do next. Judging from the goofy look on Tanya’s face similar thoughts must be running through her mind as well, but I can’t tell to be sure. All we seem capable of at the moment is to smile at each other and sheepishly giggle now and then. We keep the conversation light and seem to avoid talking about anything that happened the day before. I almost feel like some junior high school kid walking with his first crush and waiting for the opportune time to as her to go steady or something.
Neither of us seems to want to chance breaking this spell by saying anything much. It isn’t until halfway through breakfast that we say anything at all. Even that wasn’t our doing. It was Niki’s.
She appeared with a plop in a seat across from us causing her breakfast tray to rattle. Without as much as a “hello” she asks if we’ve seen Holly. With that the spell was broken and Tanya and I were plunged back in to reality.
With a sigh of resignation we tell her that we haven’t seen her since Ric’s last night and she informs us that Holly was a “no show” at dinner last night pausing only long enough to ask why I hadn’t been there either. I told he I’d run into someone and left it at that which caused Tanya to laugh a little and punch my leg under the table. This caused Niki to look a little more confused than normal but didn’t deter her from continuing to shovel food into her mouth.
I suggested Niki go find the other two girls Holly works with and see if they’ve seen her. While I’m suggesting this I see the shop lady walking across the far side of the café’ towards the gift shop. Something told me maybe I should be talking to her. She seems to have this habit of being around when things happen. So I suggest to Tanya that maybe she should go get a change of clothes and meet me in the gift shop. I tell Niki to meet us at a certain spot on the beach after she’s talked to Amy and Jennifer.
With that we rise from our table and head in our respective directions, but not without kissing Tanya one more time.
I walk in to the gift shop and see the shop lady at the far end of the store stocking merchandise behind the counter. I’m not even half way across the store when she says hello before even turning around to look at me. For the first time I notice the name badge on her shirt. There, etched in black letters on a gold background is the name Margo. “Hello Margo. How are you today?” I try and ask in as friendly a manner as I can. She seems unsurprised to see me and simply asks, “Did you try any of the nightclubs I suggested yesterday?” “No.” I said sounding half dejected for some reason. “Before you go getting yourself all worked up over nothing you might get out and check a few of these places out. It will do you a great deal of good …and maybe answer a few questions for you.” “And what if it doesn’t?” I say sounding more like my usual smart assed self.
She gets a slightly serious look on her face and scribbles an address down on a slip of paper and slides it across the counter to me, as the look in her eyes grows more serious. “If you don’t find what you’re looking for at the other places try here…. but you must beware, this won’t be for the faint of heart and I can’t guarantee your safety there.”
“So where are we headed?” I hear Tanya’s voice say over my shoulder. “It appears we’re going clubbin’ if you’re up for it?” I say as I turn to greet her. She gives me this tongue in cheek frown that tells me she’s game as she kisses my cheek and gives Margo a polite, but cold nod. Tanya is wearing a bright colored pario wrapped around her waist, sandals and little else. She has a large shoulder bag with her that seems to have everything but the kitchen sink in it.
I thank Margo and we turn to head out the door and to meet Niki on the beach. Niki is already there and is so pre-occupied with looking down the beach for us she doesn’t see us walk up next to her and I damn near scare the shit out of her by just saying hello which causes Tanya to chuckle and tell her she needs to calm down a little. Niki looks at her while screwing her face all up, which makes both of us, break out laughing. Then she blurts out that Amy and Jen haven’t seen Holly since some time yesterday evening when she said she had some things to take care of in town today.
The three of us look at each other with a perplexed look on our faces then I say, as matter of factly as possible, “Looks like quite a road trip for us today.” Before settling into a chair on the beach for a moment so that we can figure out what to do and where to go first, not to mention bring Niki up to speed on what I’ve found out so far… which wasn’t much.
While we’re discussing our plan for the day and evening Mondi walks up and greets us in his usual cheery way as he makes his daily attempt to sell us some of his goods. As usual he has several compliments for the ladies and even one or two for me that make us laugh and enjoy the moment. He offers Tanya a small white shell on a gold ring “to add to your new jewelry” he says gesturing with his eyes. Tanya looks down between her legs and looks almost embarrassed that her new adornment was so readily noticeable, but does nothing to hide herself, she accepts his gift and thanks him for it which prompts Niki to throw her legs wide open with a pout on her face and bellow “Hey! What about me? I got one too!” which causes all of us to laugh out loud while Mondi hands her one as well. The girls both stand up and give him a hug and thank him as they give him a kiss on the cheek before he gathers his wares and heads off down the beach and they settle in to finish our conversation and I set about adding their new gift to their piercings. Being in that close a proximity to Tanya and her pussy almost made me forget why I was there in the first place…not that she was minding, but we had other things to do that morning and I had a feeling we’d have plenty more opportunities to work on that later.
After making sure their new jewelry was securely attached. I settled back in my chair as we removed what little clothing we had on and got some sun while we talked everything through. We figured the best course of action was to wait until later and see if Holly showed up, on her own alive. If she doesn’t we’ll head into town. Something told me that the clubs Margo had told me about and Holly were somehow related. I didn’t tell the girls about the other club. My gut said that piece of information was best left unsaid…unless we really needed to go there.
Both women looked amazing laying there naked soaking up the sun while they reclined on their lounge chairs, sipped their drinks and talked about anything and everything that came to mind. It wasn’t long before I found myself reaching into my, ever present, backpack and pulled out my camera and began snapping pictures of them. Neither of them seemed all too concerned about me doing so and before long they were getting into it with me and striking pose’s and offering suggestions for pose’s. Some of which were downright silly, but fun to do. Niki, as usual, was the more animated one of the two as she willingly posed in every nasty pose she could come up with. While Tanya was leaning a little more to “pinup” poses with the occasional wide-open legs shot here and there. Tanya eventually made her way back to her lounge chair and propped the back up so she could sit in an upright position while watching me shoot pics of Niki a few feet away under a palm tree.
The afternoon progressed delightfully with more pictures, conversation and playful teasing. As the sun started to make its way down into the sea we collected our things and started to head back to our rooms and change for dinner and then to some of those clubs Margo had told me about. Halfway up the path back we’re met by the very same guy who had clocked me the night before. He approached us with a friendly smile and as he drew closer reached back behind himself for what I was sure was going to be a gun but instead produced a wallet…that had a badge in it. He identified himself as “John” who was an agent working undercover for the Ministry of Justice to solve a series of thefts at several hotels and resorts around the island and they knew we weren’t involved in any of them. They had however arrested Holly and an accomplice who had stolen hundreds of thousands of cash and jewelry items there over the past five years. He then asked if we were missing any items ourselves? The girls said no and I said not this time and told him about the event I had with Holly in Vegas a few years before. He mentioned he would pass that information on to the FBI because they were tracking Holly and an unidentified “ring leader” in the US as well. He asked if I wanted to press charges and I said no, it really didn’t matter what happened yesterday between he and I. When we asked what was going to happen to her he simply stated it was going to be a long time before she had a chance to ever do that again and excused himself and left us with a look of disbelief in what we had just heard.
That night was a less than stellar evening. The food didn’t taste good, the music at the places we went to just didn’t seem as cheery and rather than party the night away we called it a night early.
The next morning there was a note from Tanya waiting for me at the front desk saying good-bye. She didn’t have the guts to do so in person. Everything was just too an intense experience for her. Along with the note in the envelope was the ring she had put in her hood the day before…I would never see or hear from her again.
In all my travels since I’ve not run across Nikki and the other girls either. Maybe it’s just as well. There would probably be more than one awkward moment or two attached to it all. This Lifestyle is seldom “Cloak and Dagger” but like “normal” life in general, things happen.
A lesson learned to be sure but a good one. It’s one thing to play, but play smart…just don’t let yourself get seriously played in the process. It’s not worth the hassle.
Besides…I met and married someone far more interesting than all of them. Our life has been blessed with more honesty, trust and intimacy than one could hope for or possibly deserve. The sex is the icing on the cake, the “dessert” of our life. We embrace it with open eyes and open hearts and always will do just that.
Chicken is browned with colombo seasoning and braised with onions, coconut milk, lime juice, and herbs. It is finished with bananas and pistachio nuts. This is a popular dish served over Creole Rice in the French West Indies. I added a leftover courgette and a tomoto Colombo powder is French West Indies curry powder - a mixture of cumin, coriander, brown mustard, malabar black pepper, cloves, fenugreek, and turmeric.
* 2 Tablespoons sunflower oil
* 1 Tablespoon butter
* 1 chicken (cut into pieces)
* 4 Tablespoons colombo powder
* 2 cups chicken broth
* 2 cups peeled and chopped onions
* 1 can (14 ounces) coconut milk
* 1 clove garlic, crushed
* 2 Tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
* 2 Tablespoons fresh thyme
* 2 Tablespoons chopped chives
* 3 Tablespoons chopped parsley
* 1 teaspoon chopped Scotch Bonnet pepper
* 1 Tablespoon salt
* 1 Tablespoon pepper
* 1 cup peeled and chopped banana (optional)
* 1/2 cup shelled pistachios (optional)
In a large saucepan, heat the oil and butter. Stir in the chicken and colombo powder. Cook over medium heat for 15 minutes until brown.
Add the chicken broth, onions, 1/2 can of coconut milk, garlic, lime juice, thyme, chives, parsley, Scotch Bonnet pepper, salt, and pepper. Simmer over medium heat for 45 minutes. Turn off the heat. Stir in the remaining coconut milk, the bananas, and pistachios. Serve hot with Creole Rice.
BACK TO WONDERLAND
Once through the Red Room I had entered a world I could have hardly expected but probably have imagined many times in my life up until that point. The colors are brighter, the images are more intense and the experiences already seem intoxicatingly real and necessary.
I expect I’ll never venture out of this place ever again with the same mindset I had when I first came in nor will I really want to in all probability. In fact I come back to it again and again still finding it fresh, new and exciting. It’s not a drug, it’s not a dream, it’s far more than that…it’s life, not only that, it’s a life well lived, unflinching, real and fulfilled to the max.
My wife Lynn and I, along with all of our various and interesting friends and playmates (new and old) will be waiting for you inside here with us to begin many more adventures and experiences around this ever shrinking globe we all live on, hopefully with you and yours joining us too.
Lynn, Rachel, Vic and I (along with a few others) finally made it home for some more fun, food and drinks. There was a blank envelope taped to the door with two tickets to a show, concert… I dunno what, tomorrow night for someone or something called Shamaro
and an engraved card with the same name on one side and a hand written note on the other side simply saying “Please come”… the adventure continues…but for now, we play.