In the Swim

My wife and I had friends who were swingers. One night, we were out having a bite with them, and the subject turned to sex… because THEY turned it to sex, damn swingers! They told us they were going to go to a swinger party that weekend and, cutting uneasy silence that followed, suggested that maybe we could join them. “No,” was obviously not the answer we stuck with, given this forum. We decided we would go, but no hanky-panky.

The night of the party, our swinger friends were going to come by the house and pick us up. We didn’t know what to wear to a swinger party, and we didn’t want the search, “What to wear to a swinger party,” in our Google history, so we just went with nothing too suggestive. Fortunately, when our friends arrived, they were dressed similarly — summer-party nice. Contrary to what a novice might expect from a swinger, there was no Engelbert Humperdinck four-buttons-open, medallion-sitting-in-a-nest-of-chest-hair thing happening. Though I’ll assume he was commando, because, swingers, right? His gal was dressed a little more invitingly, but nothing over-the-top, and probably nothing under-the-top, because, swingers, right? We learned on the way that this was an on-premise party, which we were totally unprepared for! But we also learned that there would be private rooms, and semi-public rooms, so we were very unlikely to have to hopscotch our way through an archipelago of undulating, rug burnt bodies. Whew. 

We pulled onto an upper-class suburban So Cal street, parked among the other guest’s cars, and walked haltingly up a manicured footpath toward a nicely-appointed McMansion. All eyes were on me because I have a pretty respectable case of social anxiety (imagine a world where fears are respectable — we’d all be heroes). But, I actually entered! 

Surrounded by people of all shapes and sizes, all perfectly friendly, we made our way to the kitchen counter bar and made a couple of drinks (one downed immediately, one to walk with). The next destination was outside at the spacious pool, where we found a place to settle and people watch. Our friends saw a couple they knew and introduced us to them before somehow slipping away. Uh-oh — the couple is charming and attractive, and we hit it off immediately! 

The male half, a pilot, and I offered to get refills, leaving the girls to chat. We made small talk during the errand, but when we returned, it would seem the girls had gotten into a deeper conversation. It should be noted that my wife and I have had some very liberated conversations about sex outside the marriage, usually during lovemaking, so we both know the other has an open mind. But we’ve never discussed it with others… until that night. 

My wife was pretty tipsy and asked if it was okay if she kissed her new friend! My first reaction was that I had been set up and that she knew things were headed this way from the beginning. My second thought was, cool! Next thing you knew, they were making out! Her next move took me completely off guard, “Sharon is an amazing kisser! You’ve got to try it!” Holy shit, my wife had just told me I have to kiss another — beautiful — woman! I didn’t fight too hard. She’s right — Sharon was a great kisser. Fortunately for me, my wife and I have visited many vanilla nude beaches, because the pool is now filling up with naked bodies (yup, saw the friends that brought us there naked for the first time… ) and the three of them wanted to get in the swim, as it were. Okay… I awkwardly pulled off my party clothes with the others and slipped in. 

We floated around, sipped our drinks, and both made out with Sharon some more when our first time reached step 2: my wife made out with Dave, the male half! I kind of saw this coming and wasn’t sure how I’d react. The truth is, I was getting horny (and maybe boozed up?) enough to kind of enjoy it! I watched them over Sharon’s shoulder as I made out with her. Her wandering hand confirmed that I wasn’t very disturbed… We switched partners back again and made out some more with our own significant others when Dave laid the groundwork for step 3. He hopped up on the side of the pool, and Sharon started going down on him. A smile from my wife (we’ve been together for decades, so I can read every expression) made it clear that she’d like me to do the same, and I did… and she did. After a few minutes of enjoying the women going down on us, punctuated by Dave flashing me looks that said, “This rules, right?!” Sharon took us to step 4. She asked my wife if she’d like to switch positions and have Dave for a while. Looks of agreement all around and, I believe, we were officially swinging! 

After various kissing and whatever combinations next to the pool, Dave suggested we, as they say, get a room. Well, really, at this point, why stop? So, wrapped in towels and carrying our clothes, we headed upstairs to a “private” (there were two beds with one VERY occupied!) room. The hours of sexy time just drifted by as we played, paused, drank, smoked (California), and just enjoyed each other’s bodies. I don’t know if this actually counts as a full swinging experience because, frankly, after so many years of unprotected marital sex, I can’t really function with condoms; therefore, I could not consummate my relationship with Sharon. Dave, however, had no problem with them, so at least my wife became an official swinger! 

Looking up at one point, I saw the couple that brought us watching from the door. They were smiling approvingly. Since then, we have not only seen Sharon and Dave again (the little blue pill got me passed the condom issue) and stopped wearing bathing suits when our swinger friends come to hang out by our pool, but we have also made many other new friends as well. While we don’t regret having waited so long to try it, we’re certainly happy to have this as part of our lives.

This story was submitted to our SDC Erotic Writing Contest:
“Our First Swinging Experience” by one of our members.

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