My husband Rob* and I, made the dubious, naïve and outrageous decision to give swinging a go, in an attempt to put some spice into our dull, sexless marriage. We were in our early 40s, been married 17 years ago, we were still interested in sex, just not really with each other.
Over a vat of red wine, a friend of mine admitted that she and her husband were swingers and regularly hooked up with a hot couple, to enjoy fabulous hot sex. Dinner, drinks and fabulous no strings fucking. Over more reds, I went from shocked, to intrigued, to sold. I rationalised that swinging may be a better option than the furtive affairs which were bound to happen. I tentatively broached the idea of a foursome and Rob leapt at the idea with an enthusiasm and spark I had not seen for ages.
He confidently took on the role as Project Manager. Created our profile, added some safe photos, and ticked the relevant boxes. Let’s start off slow, I pleaded, striking bondage, S&M, and anal off the table right from the bat.
Our first foursome foray, was with another ‘professional’ couple in their early 30s. We agreed to go halves in a hotel suite. They arranged to get there before us. On the drive to the hotel, I was unusually quiet. Anxious. Nervous. Excited. And uncomfortable in my ill-fitting K Mart lingerie and suspenders.
We were given the room number – where Rob confidently knocked on the door. We had seen photos of the couple, but I was not prepared for the Ken and Barbie Dolls who greeted us. He was tall, and blonde (Nordic style) with ice-blue eyes and an athletic build. He wore a perfectly ironed white linen shirt, perfectly ironed jeans and had perfectly formed bare feet. A sexy stubble dusted his angular chin. She had long blonde hair, big blue eyes and wore a velvet dress with a long slit revealing fishnet stockings and long, soft leather boots. Rather than excited, I immediately felt inferior. Where they were fine dining in a quiet carpeted dining room, we were buffet dining with highchairs in the corner. We were Aldi to their boutique deli.
If they were disappointed with Mr and Mrs Suburbia, they did not show it. My husband confidently shook hands with Ken and kissed Barbie on the cheek. I followed suit. We accepted the French Champagne that was poured into the hotel glasses. (I had a fleeting thought that I hoped we were not going halves in that, knowing how expensive it was. I only drank Mumm at my wealthy brother's house at Xmas).
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After some small talk, and gulped drinks (well, I was gulping, the other three were sipping), Ken doll took the lead. He began kissing Barbie in a sensual, sexual way, and expertly unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor in a velvet cascade. I could hear Robs intake of breath as Barbie's perfect body, encased in a leather, old fashioned bustier tied with little pink bows, fishnets and suspenders, was revealed.
Barbie used her long doll like fingers to expertly undo Ken's buttons before removing the shirt, letting it also drop to the floor. His jeans followed suit, until he stood tall in his naked splendour, with a tattoo of a snake winding across a taut muscular stomach. He looked good and knew it. While ogling I also had the fleeting thought that he would have to re-iron the shirt.
Rob and I looked at each other questioningly – I mean there are not rule books here and we were novice swingers. We ended up following Ken doll's lead. We kissed, and it felt weird, uncomfortable and clumsy. We took our own clothes off (I hung them neatly over the nearby chair.) We all moved to the king sized bed, and once again, Ken led the way. "I would like to see the girls play," he said in a confident, demanding tone with a hint of arrogance that terrified me. The last time I kissed a girl was at a sleepover when I was 12 – where we paired up and clumsily practiced ‘pashing’.
I could feel two sets of expectant, horny male eyes on us. Thank god Barbie led the way. Kissing Barbie was extremely nice. I liked the feel of her soft lips and tongue lightly entering my mouth. I breathed in her expensive perfume and with the effects of two glasses of hastily drunk bubbles finally having an effect; I ran my hands through her hair and down to her firm breasts. I was in familiar territory thank god. It was hard to stuff up breast and nipple fondling.
I was saved (thank goodness) having to move further south. I had never been able to successfully masturbate so the thought of navigating the mystery of somebody else’s vagina and clitoris left me terrified. My lack of swinging competence, would be immediately apparent. Ken put his blonde head between Barbie's long booted legs while Barbie and I continued to kiss. My husband followed Ken's lead, but I also noticed his hand snaking its way towards Barbies waist. I felt a moment of annoyance, wishing that the men would disappear and I could enjoy this novel F/F experience on my own.
Barbie had started to pant and moan (I assume for real) and Ken doll took it as his queue to pull her onto his large perfect penis to enjoy vigorous HOT sex. He manoeuvred her flexible body this way and that – his snake tattoo writhing on his six-pack stomach. Rob and I had our perfunctory normal, quickie (which was over even faster than normal) and for what seemed like ages, watched the noisy athletics next to us. I decided to polish off the bubbles. I realised on the quiet drive home, that Rob and I were merely the appetiser and each other the main course and dessert. We were mere spectators waiting in the wings. This couple were totally into each other. I decided with a degree of jealousy that there was NO WAY they were married and probably having their own affair. My husband did not seem to mind and sung to the radio all the way home.
Our second foursome was with a professional couple in their mid 50s. This time we were the young ones. We met at a bar near their city penthouse. They said that if the ‘meet and greet’ went well, we could go back to their place to ‘play’. We got on well. They were both lawyers. He was nice looking. Not in Ken's league, but warmer, and far less intimidating. She looked a little tired, and I wondered if she would have far preferred being at home with a cuppa.
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Taking a leaf from Ken doll, Rob suggested that after we had finished our second Pinot Noir, that we should have a night cap at their pad. They said they did not normally play on the first date but would make an exception.
When we arrive in their house, I noticed two mattresses laid out on the floor on either side of the kitchen table. In visual but not touching distance. I felt it looked more like it had been set up for a kids' sleepover than a sexy encounter. Obviously the marital bed was off limits.
We began on the long leather couch, where Mr Lawyer began kissing me, and Rob the confident led Mrs Lawyer to the mattress on the floor. We then did our own thing – which suited me to the (ground). Mr Lawyer was a nice kisser, was obviously enjoying being with me, and complimented me on my body. And from my sneaked glances under the table, Rob looked equally happy with his head between Mrs Lawyers ample bosom.
Our third and as it turned out to be final foursome took place after the Swingers ‘Saints and Sinners’ ball, held at a city nightclub. The theme was hookers and deviants and the scene was wild. Still feeling really out of my comfort zone, I got very drunk. Rob and I agreed to go back to another couple's hotel room. I remember him being very skinny and short, with a mullet (not cool back then) and wearing Santa jocks. His wife had a great laugh and enormous breasts, which I think Rob and I were equally entranced by.
We arrived back at their hotel room, and the four of us lay on the bed. I turned my back on Mr Skinny who was grabbing at my legs. I was only interested in his wife’s boobs, but then basically blacked out.
We woke just before dawn with a hangover from hell and a mood to match. Rob and I were careful not to wake the snoring swingers and left. I noticed a used black condom on the floor and wondered if Rob had lucked out.
I took all my shame and anxiety out on my poor husband and announced in the taxi going home that I was never doing that again. He sat there quietly, nursing his own terrible hangover, looking like a child who had been told he was getting nothing for Xmas. We never mentioned swinging again - like it had never happened.
When we eventually - and sadly divorced, and I started seeing a few other men on a casual basis. I toyed with the idea of a foursome. Maybe it would be more fun with someone where there was no emotional baggage and the sex was just for fun. But I never pursued it. I have relegated the experience to a distant memory that I will pull out ever now and then to ponder over, much like a top you have worn on a few occasions, thinking you should throw it out but never do.
Feature Image: Getty.
*Names have been changed for privacy reasons.
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