Swinging by a Thread: The Misadventures of an Accidental Swinger Read online

  Swinging by a Thread

  The Misadventures of an Accidental Swinger

  By

  Audra Morgan

  Swinging by a Thread: The Misadventures of an Accidental Swinger

  Copyright © 2012 by Audra Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or

  reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written

  permission from the author, except for brief quotations

  included in critical reviews.

  Audra can be contacted by email at

  [email protected]

  Contents

  Prologue

  How It Began, or Always Blame the Bartender

  Drunken Deer in Headlights, or How We Became Swingers without Even Trying

  Swinging into Divorce Court, or How to Kill a Relationship in Ten Minutes Flat

  Hardcore Swinging, or How to Tell You Need to Get a Life, Pronto

  Swinging for Three, or the Perils of Finding a Third

  Swing Club Etiquette, or Really? Did You Just Touch Me There?

  Swinging into a Straightjacket, or When You’re Just too Damned Crazy for This Shit

  Swinging into a Restraining Order, or Swinging with a Side of Stalking

  Swinging Bigots, or Can’t We All Just Get Along?

  Swinging with a Smile, or Sometimes Things Just Happen to Work Out

  Anyone Else Have Horror Stories?

  It’s Only Fair to Share…

  Austin

  Second Chances

  Quarter Nights

  We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?

  ~ The Eleventh Doctor

  Prologue

  I've read quite a few “memoirs” over the years which were quite obviously exaggerated to the point of becoming complete fiction, with only the smallest grains of truth scattered throughout. I'd like to point out, straight away, that this is not such a story. Much of the past five years of my life has fallen into the “truth is stranger than fiction” category, and a dear friend downright insisted I record my strange, but true, stories so that my life could serve as comic relief for someone other than her. At her behest, I've done so, and other than changing names to protect the far-from-innocent, all of the details in the pages before you are my own true, unembellished life experiences. In fact, they're so accurate that I'm bound to get an angry email or two from people who recognize the stories a bit too well! Still, I felt compelled to tell these stories, and to keep it real. For some of you, it will serve simply as the means to a good laugh. For others, it may hit close to home, reminding you of some of your own funny experiences. For others still, it may even spur you on to create some adventures of your own. And if you do that, I hope to read about them one day – I could use a laugh that isn’t at my own expense!

  Chapter One

  How It Began, or Always Blame the Bartender

  This is the story of five years of crazy adventures in swinging, and of some of the things I’ve learned through our more outrageous encounters. You don't know me from Jack, so I'm not going to bore you with a twenty page background on my life. Still, I think context is pretty fundamental, so let me begin with a little bit about us, and about how we ended up on this path.

  Tyler and I spent the first ten years of our relationship being homebodies. He was never much for going out; he preferred a quiet night at home, watching movies or playing games. I, on the other hand, had to adjust to the quiet life. I'd spent my years in college and grad school partying almost nightly, and my new, quieter life was a big change, to say the least. I grew used to it, though, and then once we had kids, it became a no brainer that nightlife from there on out would involve falling asleep watching Saturday Night

  Live together. Yes, the all-too-typical routine of being married with kids. With that routine, though, came a serious emotional and sexual rut in our relationship. For a while, we both assumed this was the natural progression of marriage; it seemed everyone we knew was going through the same thing, so we didn't discuss it, much less attempt to fix it. It just was. At some point, we thankfully agreed that our relationship was worth more than that, that we were better than that, and we began making a conscious effort to change things for the better.

  For our ninth anniversary, Tyler surprised me with a night out which consisted of an amazing hotel room, dinner, and a fun night at my favorite bar from my college days. It felt so good to get out again, to be around people drinking and laughing and having fun. I felt like I'd come home, and Tyler could see how happy I was. From that point on, we made going out at least once a month a priority. We settled into a wonderful new routine of meeting our friends, mostly the parents of our kids' friends, for cocktails and dancing and general absurdity. Monthly nights out turned into twice-a-month gatherings, and those nights were soon supplemented with drunken game nights and movie nights. We were truly having more fun than we'd ever had before, and our marriage was all the stronger for it. Then, one night, a bartender at that very same bar told us a story that, quite honestly, changed our lives forever.

  Gene, our favorite bartender, smiled broadly as we entered the bar one Saturday night. He made us our drinks before we even reached our barstools; we were pretty predictable. As he placed our drinks down on the bar, he leaned forward and began to tell us about his adventures the previous night. "Guys, I have to tell you about this club I went to with a friend last night. It was insane. Naked people everywhere. Having sex! I've never seen anything like it. You guys should check it out, you would die!" Before he could tell us more, he was called to the other side of the bar, and that was the last we spoke to him that night.

  Now, I've never even been to a strip club in my life, it just holds no interest for me; I'm a naturally curious person, though, and it intrigued me that this place existed in my city. This club with regular people who got naked and had sex in front of each other. Did these places really exist outside porn and bad Tom Cruise movies? What kind of people would go to such a place? Had Gene been exaggerating, as I suspected he sometimes did when telling stories? The next morning, despite my hangover, I was up early, searching online for answers to my questions.

  "Did you know we had a swingers club here?" I asked Tyler incredulously. He’d heard a coworker talk about it once, but he didn’t really get any details. I still couldn't quite fathom it. Unfortunately, what we could find online just didn't quench our thirst for details about this club that had been operating for nearly ten years mere minutes from our house. While I'd never had any desire to set foot in a strip club, I suddenly felt a need to have a glimpse into this secret world where things happened that I had to admit I couldn't even really imagine. Regular people, exposing their bodies and their sex lives to others, not for money, but for the sheer enjoyment of it. I felt like the most sheltered, naive person in the world, and I felt the overwhelming desire to unburden myself of that naiveté.

  Now, let me make one thing clear, in case you weren’t paying attention: Tyler and I were not, had never been, and had never considered being, swingers. We'd been monogamous, with no exceptions, for our entire marriage, and we had no intentions of changing that. That being said, we both felt drawn to this mysterious club, simply so we could see what went on there, and so we could be "in the know" about this secret place that apparently did not even have a sign on the door or a listing in the phone book. We quickly realized that if we were going to learn anything about this place before actually stepping foot in the door, we'd have to make contact with people online and get information first-hand.

  We emailed a few people who
had posted in online forums about the club; we made it clear that we were just going as visitors, to check the place out, and that we wanted to learn more about it before we actually went. A very nice couple replied to our email, told us all about the club, and assured us that people are more than welcome to just go, have a few drinks, check out what was happening, and leave without having to worry about being accosted in any way. In fact, they pointed out, we were more likely to be hit on inappropriately at any random bar than at a swing club. Who knew! This couple was from out of town, but they'd been to the club many times before; they offered to meet us a few blocks away at a neighborhood bar, walk us to the club (since it was somewhat difficult to find), and show us around. We appreciated their kindness and generosity, and we made plans for that weekend. We agreed we were going simply to drink, people watch, and learn a little about this completely different way of life.

  Chapter Two

  Drunken Deer in Headlights, or How We Became Swingers without Even Trying

  It's an understatement for me to tell you that I have social anxiety; I border on phobic when it comes to new situations. I've been going to the same two bars, almost religiously, for twenty years, not including those antisocial years in the middle when I just stayed home. I like to know my surroundings, to feel comfortable, and to see familiar faces when I walk through the door of an establishment. I like to know what to expect, what to wear, how to act. On a freezing cold, rainy December night in 2007, I stood in my bedroom realizing I had none of those things going for me. I was, quite literally, facing something completely and utterly new. And I was terrified. I was relatively certain that most women who went to swingers clubs wore short, tight, low cut dresses, and I had no clue what the men might wear. Cheesy shirts, unbuttoned a bit too low down the chest, with gold chains around their necks, perhaps?

  I shuddered at the thought, and I wondered if it might not be a good idea to go ahead and make a drink to calm my nerves. Yes, an excellent idea, I decided. I comforted myself with the knowledge that we could hide in a corner, people-watch in abject horror, and sneak quietly out the door after an hour or two. Plenty of time to head to our favorite bar to dance and laugh about the experience. Deciding that a more conservative wardrobe choice might keep the weirdoes at bay, I threw on jeans, black leather boots, and a long sleeved shirt. Tyler dressed in, well, what guys always wear - a polo shirt and some jeans - and we hit the road.

  When we arrived at the bar, we were both so nervous we thought we'd be sick. We had to laugh at ourselves for being so nervous about going to a new place. Sure, it was a sex club - but we would just be having a drink and watching in awe at the things we'd likely be witnessing. It seemed kind of silly that we, as mature-ish adults, found that so daunting. We ordered a few strong cocktails, and we found a spot to sit and wait for our internet forum friends to arrive. Several drinks later, they showed up. A friendly, outgoing Midwestern couple, Alan and Beth immediately made us feel at ease. They told us the story of how they'd met, they told us about their jobs, and they guessed, in a scarily accurate fashion, both of our careers.

  We had a few more drinks as they discussed their many trips to our city and their previous visits to the club. They were warm and sincere, and we were relieved to see that they were not attempting to hit on us or otherwise make us feel awkward. We'd made our intentions, or lack thereof, clear, and they were respecting that. Before we knew it, it was time to head to the club, and they led the way as we stumbled behind them. As I attempted to walk, I pondered the possibility that those last few drinks may not have been such a good idea.

  We entered the club, and to my rather drunk senses it resembled a high end nightclub in any metropolitan area. Candles illuminated the lobby area, and popular dance music emanated from the back of the building. The hostess handed me a clipboard, and I filled out the membership form. Was I aware of what sort of establishment this was? Check. Did I understand there would be nudity and sex acts taking place? Check. Did I agree to leave any cameras outside the club? Check. Had I discussed swinging with my spouse? Uhhhhh…well…check, I guess. We were just there to watch, we didn't need to have that discussion, right? I signed the form, paid the hefty membership and door fees, and prepared myself for a tour of the multi-story establishment.

  It was early, so there weren't many people there yet; it was a good time to look around and see all the rooms and spaces without feeling overwhelmed. Alan and Beth asked if we were ready for the tour, and thus we headed up to the top floor. As it turned out, they were spending the night in the club's small hotel, and they needed to drop a bag of clothing off. Their room had a small sofa and a very nice king sized bed, and we had a seat so Beth could excuse herself to change her clothes. We talked with Alan a bit more, mostly idle chit chat about work. He sheepishly discussed his job as a professor at a university in his city, and Tyler listened with interest. I was processing every third word at this point; I realized I'd consumed at least five times the amount of alcohol I was used to, and it was taking its toll. Oops. Tyler and Alan continued talking and laughing, then Beth returned and joined in the conversation, so it was all good. I could sit and smile and pretend like I wasn't bordering on passing out.

  The next hour is, to this day, a huge blur with a few black spots sprinkled throughout. I could make things up, or I could fill in the blanks with Tyler's remembered details, but instead I will give you the turn of events which followed, as I remember them. I was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching Tyler, Alan, and Beth talk. Everything was fuzzy and warm and happy, and I remember thinking how much I loved Tyler, and how adorable and animated he was as he talked to our new friends. He was normally so reserved, and I loved seeing this more outgoing side of him. I noticed Beth whisper something in his ear, and he nodded, and then Beth jumped up from the sofa, walked towards me, and pounced. She was on top of me, kissing me and running her fingers through my hair, and I was completely stunned. I had no idea what was happening, but in my intoxicated-beyond-belief state, I went with it. Alan was suddenly at my feet, struggling with the laces of my boots. "Complicated boots," I kept hearing him mumble.

  Strangely, that's the clearest memory I have from that night. Me and my complicated boots. At some point he won his war against the laces, and my boots were on the floor, and the rest of my clothes joined them within a few short seconds. Things went dark in my drunken mind, then everyone was naked, and Beth was between my legs as Tyler and Alan lay on either side of me. I was too drunk and numb to feel much, but I remember thinking wow, this is kind of nice. Not the specific act, but the situation in general. I felt strangely warm and happy. A few fuzzy minutes later, Alan and I were having sex, with Tyler and Beth doing the same next to us, so close their bodies were rubbing against ours.

  I looked over at them and smiled; it was certainly a sight I never expected to see, and it was kind of beautiful to see Tyler from that perspective. Beth was pretty, and thin, with long hair that seemed to go on forever. She was moaning and arching her back, and I noted with a certain awe how very into Tyler she clearly was. I returned my attention to Alan, who, as guys go, wasn't remotely creepy or any of the things I’d expected when it came to common notions about swingers. He kissed me in a sweet, almost shy way, which seemed so strange considering the fact that we were both naked and, well, his cock happened to be inside me at that particular moment. It was endearing, in a way, and it helped me to feel like whatever the hell this was, however this had come to be, it was okay.

  An hour later we were dressed, complicated boots and all, standing somewhat awkwardly at the foot of the bed. Beth was all smiles, and she grabbed Tyler and kissed him. It felt so strange to stand there, knowing what had just happened, and what was happening right then, and realizing that it didn’t bother me in the least. I pulled Alan towards me and kissed him deeply, and he seemed almost surprised at my doing so. We talked for a few minutes, they said they’d make plans to come to town again soon, and that we’d have to get together again, then they offered t
o actually give us that tour of the club they’d promised.

  I'd sobered up a bit, and I was a bit shocked that the place was packed and the action was going strong. Each part of the club was a revelation. There was a gorgeous, expansive bar with a small, but nice dance floor with modern lighting juxtaposed against aging exposed brick. An attractive sitting area near the bar was packed with people talking and laughing. Upstairs was a bit different; each room we passed through contained people in various stages of undress. My bartender friend had not exaggerated; there were naked people left and right, many of whom were engaging in some form of sex. A woman was on her knees giving a man on a white lounge chair a blow job. Two couples were making out on a plush beige sofa in a beautiful room with a fireplace. A quick peek into the theater room revealed black leather sofas occupied by men and women watching porn while enjoying some real life action with friends and strangers. As we continued our tour, the theme continued. Sex with one person, sex with two or three people, and even one room with what had to be a pile of a dozen people all licking and kissing and stroking and fucking.

  It was at this point that a switch went off in my brain. I was mentally overstimulated, and the events which had just taken place were beginning to settle into my consciousness. I told Tyler I was ready to go, and we hugged Alan and Beth goodbye, wished them a good visit to the city, and headed out in the rain. We arrived home, had the most amazing sex we’d had in recent memory, and fell asleep in each others' arms. While completely exhilarated, both of us also worried about what the unexpected turn of events of that night might mean for us, and for our relationship. To our complete relief, we had a long talk the next day. We realized that all was well, that neither of us had any jealousy or anxiety related to the previous night, and that we'd actually consider trying something like that again sometime, preferably with more planning and less alcohol. As much as I cringe at the term, we'd quite unintentionally become swingers.