We had joined a swing club. What exactly does that mean? It means you are in a club with others that like to play and have sex and will never tell your secret. The purpose of the club is to weed out couples that are not in it for the right reasons.

You’d be surprised how many couples have pushed their spouse into swinging with lies about it saving their marriage. Swinging is not a marriage counselor. It can certainly enhance a marriage, if used the right way.

Most swing couples are in healthy communicative relationships. You have to have great communication skills to deal with the issues that arise from seeing your partner with another. Possibly at times having more fun then they may have with you, different fun of course.

Each club has different rules; this club had to meet each couple in person to make sure they were joining for the right reason. Our first step was to meet the club owners. I was so nervous. I had no clue what to expect. We met innocently enough at an Applebee’s for an early dinner.

Bob & Chantal- enter our lives

Bob was 6’8” and a big boy. Not fat, just big. He sported a ponytail with a high widow’s peak that made him look like a ninja. His confidence walked in the room before he ever did. He always wore silk pants and a matching silk shirt that looked like pajamas.

I would come to understand this odd choice of dress fit him perfectly, in the unique style and in the fit. Everything he owned was custom made because of his large size. You could not help but notice him. He knew it and went out of his way to make an impression. People found it hard not to like him and he never took himself too seriously.

Chantal was tall and thin with a great body that she flaunted; pretty, but nothing to write home about. Her personality was more on the quiet side, submissive, almost timid, until you really got to know her. She carried an inner confidence about her sexuality to match no other. I would learn from her how pull out my own sexuality, a talent I never would have learned and mastered if not for her entering my world.

I have to admit, I did judge her the first minute I laid eyes on her. I thought, “My God, what is she wearing? Did she just fall off the pole!?!” I was concerned people would know what we were doing by how she looked and how she was dressed.

The conversation flowed and we felt as if we had all been friends forever. Each person ordered from the menu, and then the waitress came to me. I tend to eat in times of stress…I wanted a triple chocolate melt down.

“A magnificently moist chocolate cake. Its fudge-filled center will erupt upon first bite! Served with Vanilla ice cream and hot fudge”

They all just looked at me and started laughing. Bob’s comment was, “So, you order dessert as a meal? I guess I know who the twisted, indulgent, pervert is in this couple!” With that, we were in the club.

They were having a house party that weekend. Bob said most couples start out with a mild hotel party, which was more laid back, less pressure. Being I order dessert like most people order a burger, we would be just fine.

The party was held across town in a quiet neighborhood. The street was jam packed with cars, and the walk to the house seemed to take forever. Once we walked into the house, it was as if we fell down the rabbit hole, dumping us into a peculiar wonderland.

We knew no one. We walked in to find naked and half naked couples everywhere and the strong stench of sex. We ended up in the area that seemed to be the most inactive and tranquil, the kitchen. It seemed safe enough; only a bunch of hungry couples fueling up for their next rounds of pleasure. A few other new couples had also found sanctuary in that space; you could tell by the icy, Deer-in-headlights stare they all were wearing.

Veteran couples came in the kitchen and would smile saying, “You’re fresh meat. We can smell it.” We were easy to pick out, and not just from shocked looks on our faces.

We hadn’t learned the first rule of a house party. No underwear. They only get in the way and always get lost.

Just a light pat on the back to feel a bra strap, was all those veterans needed to do to know we were newbies. (That’s what they lovingly would refer to new couples as.) You could also spot newbies by the fact they still wore clothing.

The house was a feast of nakedness for the eye. Some was stirring to look at, while others I would refer to as eye pollution, at times being unable to look away like a train wreck. These were, for the most part, ordinary couples with normal mundane, usual bodies. No perfect models.

One guy gave me nightmares for a few weeks. This man, who was older than dirt, walked around with a hard on like I hadn’t seen before. Then I noticed the pump attached next to his penis. I was horror-struck but couldn’t look away. He had two stunning ladies fighting for his attention. I called him pump guy and he showed up at all the swing functions with two hot girls. It took a while for me to realize they were paid escorts.

After a while, we did get a house tour from an older gay guy, who was the owner. He had the most beautiful collection of designer and couture dresses I had ever seen in one place. It looked like a normal house from the outside but inside it was set up for a whole lot of sex; with beds, couches and sex toys everywhere you could look.

That’s when I first saw and fell in love with the sex swing.

The whole basement was full of mattresses and two love swings. My eyes glazed over, envisioning what could be done in that swing. I wanted one. I put that at the top of my wish list. After a few hours we had our fill of looking at naked and left. We did nothing at the house party, but went home and had the best sex ever.

*Dessert Lover, Mega-fan of the amazing sex swing, not a newbie anymore.