What happened when I tried swinging to save my marriage.

To help revive a faltering marriage, my husband and I made the dubious decision to give swinging a go. We loved each other, but no longer fancied each other. And we were too young to give up sex.

I had made a new friend through the local kinder, and through our mutual love of alcohol, she regaled me with her sexual exploits leaving me feeling naïve, boring and titillated in equal measures.

She and her husband were avid swingers and her reviews were glowing. You both get to have sex with other people and when you get home, you are so horny from the experience, and you bonk each other's brains out.

I was sceptical. I could not imagine wanting to bonk anyone’s brains out, but I was open to the idea. My sex starved husband jumped at the suggestion, researching a suitable event with the excitement of a seven-year-old opening their Xmas morning bounty.

Our first swingers party was a mere 10 minute drive from our home. Virtually opposite the park we took our kids to play local footy. 

We booked, were given the address, dress code and ground rules. No single men, women to wear sexy lingerie and men g strings or jocks and vests. Always ask consent before making a sexual move. Use condoms. Drunkenness or bad behaviour will not be tolerated. Respect to be always shown. 

We went to our local Japanese restaurant beforehand, where I addressed my anxiety by knocking back sushi and sake. I felt uncomfortable in too tight lingerie (which had fit my pre-childbirth body). I had bought suspenders and stockings which I spent ages in front of the mirror trying to get lined up and in the process causing a ladder which I tried to contain by a dab of nail polish. Under jeans and shirt, my husband was sporting brand new jocks, fearing his sagging Big W fare would not pass muster. He topped it off with his green paisley wedding suit waistcoat. 


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The venue was a large, brown brick, two storey, suburban home. There were a couple of kids' bikes out front, a basketball ring, a discarded footie and a large dog kennel. I really hoped both the dog, and the kids were away for the night.

Once through the front door, we entered a familiar yet totally alien world. Imagine a BBQ at the local footie club and then picture all the mums and dads you would normally see at a footie club event dressed in a vast array of sexy underwear, studs, leather whips, chains, handcuffs with genitals and breasts either on or nearly on display.

Imagine making small talk with a couple you have just met, trying not to stare at the nipple clamps on her breasts or his belly protruding over a tiny jungle print g string encasing a rather large penis.

I felt vulnerable and uncomfortable. Aware of my imperfections. Once you hit 40, most men and women have bodies which are beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Sags, bags, lumps, hairy backs and cracks bulges and stretch marks (and in my case, an inverted nipple caused from vigorous breast feeding from number two son who ended up being 6ft 4 with an endless appetite). But for most of us, nakedness is shared only with your partner who loves and accept you "warts and all" (Of course warts of course are NOT welcomed at a swingers event).


But at this suburban swingers event - with an age range of 30 to 55, there did not appear to be any body image issues at all. In fact, the crowd seemed to revel in letting it all hangout/stick out/ peek out, celebrating sexuality. 

With drink clutched in hand, we were shown the different rooms by our hostess. The voyeur room, the S&M room, the massage room, an upstairs orgy room. Bowls of condoms were readily available and their use encouraged. We were welcome to use the spa and the garage was for smoking and resting/chilling. As we were guided through the house, I was overwhelmed by the smell of burning candles, sweat and sex. 

After standing awkwardly with drink in hand, being approached by no one, we opted to go to the smoko room. I made small talk with a woman next to me. She spoke about her accounting practice. She wore her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a studded dog collar and lead. A young Kirstie Alley lookalike clad in long leather fuck me boots and leather corset was speaking animatedly to my husband.

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My husband leant over and asked my permission to go play with Ms FMB (just to clarify – in the swinging world playing does not mean a friendly game of scrabble or 500, but a euphemism for having sex, mutual masturbation, a bit of S & M or a full scale, no holds barred orgy).

"Of course," I said. I mean this was the reason we came here wasn't it? Ms Accountant had been led away by her partner, and I was sitting alone. I wandered around, peering into the darkened pungent smelling, rooms but was unable to see any sign of my husband or his play date.


I made the snap decision to leave. I texted my husband. Threw on my dress and walked the dark suburban streets with my laddered stockings pooling around my knees.

Despite my dramatic exit, we continued our swinging sojourns for a bit longer. A swingers ball, a private play with two different couples (women know how to kiss but I had no idea what I should be doing). We went inner city swinging, and it was my turn to play with a sexy long haired, pierced nipple, six-pack tummy tradie with a great sense of humour.

I thought he was hot until I saw he left his white socks on during sex. Apparently he thought his toes were ugly so kept them covered. We ended after a night where my husband got so drunk he vomited on one a fellow swinger and we were thrown out. 

Our marriage bumbled along for a few more years before we finally separated. We remain good friends for which I am forever grateful. Would I recommend swinging? From what I could see and learn from other couples, swinging can really add spice to a solid relationship. The couple needs to have absolute trust in each other, really enjoy sex and get off on seeing their partner receive pleasure from a relative stranger. For us it did not work. Our marriage was too far gone and the swinging adventures just showed up the fault lines. I also decided that I am more of a get to know someone and build the tension sort of woman. Lust at first sight was not me! I am now 59 and look back on my swinging adventures as a once in a lifetime experience, that few people have and the memories will forever keep me entertained. 

Featuer Image: Canva.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remains anonymous for privacy reasons.