My Story: Confessions of a Swinger

by Nicci Greene

  He then bucked hard into me, doggy style, in deep the way I liked it. I loved it, loved feeling his hands enjoying my bum, my body and my breasts but I was surprised by the girl below me. She lay on the bed below me, not looking to catch his eye but looking to catch mine! Wanting me! She started feeling me again all over lifting her head to kiss that spot again in my neck. This was heaven, my husband deep inside while this beautiful girl tickled and teased me, plucking my nipples and licking my neck.

  Her hands then ran down my body until in between my legs and began rubbing me just at the perfect spot. I could feel my husband penetrating me as she rubbed the top of my clitoris. It was fantastic! One of the best orgasms ever! My body shuddered as I came like hundreds of tiny speeding cars had raced through my blood, growing in size in my veins, bursting through my body while she rubbed my clit and he banged at me from behind. Her teeth gently nibbled my nipples and I cannot tell you how good that felt until I suddenly became too tender. There was just too much sensation everywhere. It was almost like the ultimate high all over my body and I couldn’t take any more.

  Thankfully my husband came inside me and I fell onto the girl as he fell onto me and we lay in a tangled mess of naked limbs gently touching each other untill I fell asleep.

  I’m sure my husband fucked her again that night, maybe more than once but I didn’t care. I realised that night how watching him with someone could be a turn on. I realised that I didn’t have to be jealous of her wanting him because she wanted me too. I didn’t have to be jealous of him wanting her because I was there with him experiencing her with him. In fact I too was getting an ultimately pleasurable experience at the same time.

  Chapter Seven – Swinging

  We became more and more open about our sexual fantasies and desires after the threesome and I became more relaxed about my husband’s desire to have sex with other women. I realised it was not out of love for another but more of an attraction that might fester if not satisfied. Why not? I thought. Why can’t people enjoy each other without having to run off with them? After all when I was younger I was no angel, in fact I would have considered myself adventurous. That side of me didn’t have to die just because I was married, did it?

  I enjoyed watching porn and there were things I wanted to try myself. I wanted once more for men to chase after me like they did when I was younger and I began to come around to the idea of swinging. The idea being that we would go to a party, swap partners and then go home together as a married couple. No harm in that, I thought.

  It wasn’t that easy though. We were young and at most parties the other couples were a lot older and had been with each other many times before. We were in demand because our bodies were tight and fresh. My husband and I had a nickname for them, wrinklies! When we arrived we would whisper to one another, ‘Too many wrinklies here’, make our excuses and then leave. Occasionally we would stumble across some younger swingers and have a laugh with them. First timers, they would be (most of them) and sometimes not even ready for the next step. Sometimes their spouses would not be as ready as them and I can recall one party when my husband and I swapped partners and my guy was a bit too eager to get me upstairs. So much so he stopped me on the stairs and started kissing my neck as he put his hand up my skirt. I could tell it would be rushed sex but we never made it to the bedroom as his wife became irritated with him and they had a row and then left. My husband was never sure if it was him that put her off but I knew it was his wide eyes when he saw me. That together with the thoughts, in her head, that he might think of me when they next had sex or perhaps even time and time again after our encounter.

  I suppose that was always the problem. It was difficult to get two couples where all four people would be happy to swap and I thought, at first, that you need to want to be with someone to go to bed with them. Then as I felt I was becoming less and less fussy my husband was finding it harder and harder to find someone he was happy to bed.

  This being the case we mostly stayed away from those types of parties where you pick a name from a hat and just get anyone. That said we did become known in the circuit and amongst other swingers but found it better to have our own parties where we could invite who we wanted or pick another couple to spend time with together.

  We were already famous with our friends for having wild parties at our house so adding potential swingers to the mix just spiced things up and we quickly became known as a new type of swinger who mixed young single people in with young married and living-together couples for sexual but no-strings-attached fun.

  This involved organising threesomes for friends as well as foursomes for ourselves and strangely, although we talked about it a lot, we never managed a threesome with my husband and I along with another bloke but we did come close once.

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  It was a stormy night and we were invited to a swinger’s house out in the country (as most of them are). It took us some time to find it as there were a lot of minor roads and we had taken the wrong turn on a couple of occasions.

  The roads had large potholes filled with muddy water and the rain was coming down in sheets almost attacking the car with venom as it lashed against the windscreen. I asked my husband was it worth it but we continued on. When we finally arrived it was obvious why it was so hard to find. It was an old farmhouse surrounded on all sides by tall trees with barely any lights on.

  We were able to drive up to the front door and were surprised at the lack of cars. We ran from the car, coats over our heads, towards the front door. I remember soaking my legs as the splashes of water hit the backs of them as I ran.

  The door was opened promptly by an older gentleman with a grey moustache. He was finely dressed in a dinner jacket and at first I though he was the butler.

  ‘Come in come in, dreadful weather’, he remarked as he took our coats and hung them gently onto a rack of hooks behind the door. I remember seeing some other coats but also a load of empty pegs prompting me to question, ‘Are we early?’

  ‘No, no,’ he said ‘not many willing to come out in that weather’ he continued, ’just a few of us tonight, come through. Would you like a drink?’

  He led us into what looked like the sitting room which was warmed by a large open fire crackling in its centre. The orange glow was the only light in the room as I looked around, not noticing at first what was on the sofa in the corner.

  We had accepted his offer of whiskey after he had answered his question himself. My husband had said to make his a small one so he had the option to drive away if required. As we walked into the room it became apparent we weren’t alone and although the light was dim my eyes began to focus on the sofa in the corner.

  At first it looked like a pile of severed limbs seeming not to belong to anyone in particular but as my eyes became accustomed to the night I realised it was two naked women on top of a man. The man seemed also to be of the same age as our butler and I wondered if he was the owner.

  We were handed the whiskies and asked to sit down as the man began chatting completely oblivious, it seemed, to the acts being carried out at the other side of the room.

  As we chatted it became apparent that our butler was in fact the owner and that he had invited us both there to ask if he could have sex with me?

  I was too busy concentrating on the three naked bodies at first to realise and I saw one women climb onto the man’s lap while the other kissed him. The one in his lap began bouncing up and down and leaning backwards as she was riding him. They weren’t quiet either, giggling and moaning and causing enough of a distraction for me not to pay attention to the man or my husband and their conversation.

  It seemed that my husband had agreed, as long as it was ok with me and as long as he could be there and could watch. He told me afterwards that he wanted to make sure I was safe rather than watch for pleasure but found himself getting very aroused by it and still masturbates about it to this very day.

  Although the whole thing s
tarted off as a creepy scene from a horror film the sexual acts being performed made me horny and the noises the women made turned me on more. When my husband questioned him about the three in the corner he said he enjoyed watching people having sex and had paid two prostitutes to have sex with a friend while he watched. This was, he said, mainly because he didn’t think we would turn up due to the weather. He further sated that having my husband watch was also a personal pleasure of his and that he was extremely grateful that we had accepted his request in such a manner.

  We all went upstairs and into a bedroom with an old four poster bed. The décor was old fashioned but quaint and all the wood was a dark mahogany. Although it looked old and perhaps dated it seemed expensive and well maintained for a man living on his own.

  I was wearing a jade green dress and he asked my husband to remove it while he himself got undressed and lay on the bed. He watched as my husband slowly removed my dress and gently caressed the sensual parts of my body with his hands as he brushed past. I was tingling all over as I watched the man in front of me masturbate.

  He kept playing with himself as my husband groped me. My hubby could never resist grabbing my naked breasts and so as he did I turned to snog him. We kissed while he felt me up and rubbed between my legs. His magic fingers rubbed and fingered me, making me very wet.

  I was so horny and the man too was gagging for it. My husband walked around to my side, took my hand, walked me over to the bed and set me down beside the naked man who was still feeling himself. My husband then reached into his pocket and took out a condom which he handed to me. I opened the wrapper and leaned over to the man who took his hands away immediately and grabbed my breasts as I rolled the condom on. I pulled myself onto the bed and over on top of the man as his hard hands rubbed my legs and body. He leaned forward putting his face between my boobs then licked them before sucking hard on my nipples. I sat on top of him and took his cock in my hand sliding it into me. I bounced up and down on him and leant back just like the girl had done downstairs. I then remember looking over at my husband who was holding his cock in his hand.

  He winked at me before I leant forward again placing my hands on the man’s chest and rubbing his hairs as he fondled me. When his hands were on my legs I felt movement behind me and then my husband’s hands on my breasts as he massaged them from behind sending the man wild with excitement as he watched him feel me. I turned to my husband and snogged him again as the man bucked wildly up into the air firing me up and down like a wild stallion. As he lunged upward for a final time he came into his condom. My husband was holding me and kissing me whilst this man was still inside me.

  Later that night my husband and I made our excuses and went home and although we arrived home late we had fantastic sex for ages and well into the dawn of the following day.

  Chapter Eight – Keys In A Bowl

  We did, however, continue to try to swing on the circuit (so to speak) and found that once word got around we were invited to all sorts of parties. On some occasions people would travel from other countries to take part in organised swinging events but we tended to stay local and near us was a whole fraternity of swingers. It was amazing to discover just how many there was and just how close we were a large community of like minded people.

  The only time we went to a key swapping party was in the dead of winter and it had been some time since the incident at the man’s house in the woods. We had been talking about it all that week and emailing each other, when we were supposed to be working. I had no idea what to expect and neither did he but we decided to make a day of it and go shopping in the city before heading out to the party.

  I had booked to have my hair blow dried and have my nails done in the afternoon so we spent the morning shopping for sexy lingerie. I enjoyed trying on different outfits for my husband and we picked a nice one together. We settled on a zebra print bra and pants set with little pink bows and pink stitching. Later that day I had my nails painted pink to match and I bought new pink, open toed stilettos which also contained a pink flower on top.

  I also purchased some hold-ups because I had laddered my tights and we were going straight to the party. It was a casual dress affair and my husband went in a new shirt he bought that day and the jeans he had on already.

  I was wearing a black, high-waist pencil skirt along with a white blouse, unbuttoned to show off my bra (although you could clearly see the zebra print through it). I bought a pink, plastic, pearl necklace with large balls at the front which drew further attention to my cleavage and that was me. I never did the casual look outside of my house and to me, a skirt and shirt was dress down enough for a party.

  When we arrived we were greeted at the door along with the other guests. The women were all given a badge with a number on it to wear. I was appalled at the thought of putting a large yellow badge onto my colour co-ordinated outfit so I held it in my hand. The men were ushered to a large cut-glass bowl in the hall which sat next to the telephone, on a pine sideboard and told to put their car keys inside before making their way to the living room.

  It could have been anyone’s sitting room, in anyone’s house, in any suburban street. The walls were painted a cream and the sofas were nice dark brown leather. There were pictures on the mantelpiece of kids in school uniforms and crisps and dips were laid out for us on the coffee table.

  My husband and I sat together, squeezed into a chair rather than joining others on the sofas. We were handed wine without being given the choice of red or white. I hated red wine then and still do so I just held it in my hand and smiled.

  Looking around at the other couples I saw the usual wrinklies but interspersed between them were some middle-aged and even younger ones. One young man caught my eye and then my attention when he spoke. I didn’t recognise his accent at first but I now know he was from South Africa. He had a mop of blonde hair and his wife too was blonde, although she looked older.

  He appealed to me, more so than all the rest and I hoped I would end up with him. I wished we had been given a choice because I knew when he looked over, that he would’ve picked me.

  Then the bowl came in carried by what I believed to be the organiser, a man in his late fifties with hair combed over from the side to hide his obvious baldness.

  Inside the bowl where the men’s keys but each had a large plastic tag attached which corresponded to the numbers on the women’s badges. My husband was asked to pick first and his number coincided with a red-head sitting across from him. She rose when he called out the number and he followed her out of the room.

  I became more and more nervous as the charade continued until there were only four of us left in the room and thankfully my blonde antipodean was still there, but he was last to pick.

  Before him was a small dumpy man who was overweight and seemed to be sweating at just having to walk over to the bowl. He reached inside and I willed him to pick the other set. My heart pounded in my chest as I prayed he wouldn’t pick my husbands keys. I knew the set and I watched his hand hover as it tried to choose. He reached it and touched the Audi sign on my husband’s fob. I gulped but he then seemed to move it aside. That’s it! I thought, he’s going for the other but then as my shoulders tensed in excitement he changed his mind and lifted my husband’s keys. He might have been trying to read the numbers but my badge was face down in the palm of my hand and I had held it tight so no-one could see.

  He read out the number and I had no choice but to turn the badge to him. Then, however, as he walked toward me, he gallantly held out his hand to help me up from my seat. I carefully placed my untouched wine on the table before lifting my hand into his. It was clammy, sweaty and cold but he gripped me tight and led me away, away from the man I wanted to bed.

  He led me back into the hall and then up the stairs. The badge and key numbers also corresponded to different rooms and thankfully ours was a bed room. My husband was not so lucky and ended up in a sitting room with his red-head. He did not enjoy his time with her and ended up having
sex, sitting down, with her on his lap but with her back to him. There was no kissing and it had taken him ages to get an erection because he didn’t fancy her and she had bitten fingernails, which was and still is, a major turn off for him. As a rule we didn’t tell each other about our encounters but on that one occasion he told me afterward and we chuckled about his unfortunate evening.

  I, on the other hand, had an altogether different experience. When we reached our allocated room we sat next to one another on the bed and he began by complimenting me on what I was wearing. He was saying all the right things as he lifted his hand and then took my necklace in his fingers. He asked me about it and I told him it was only £5.99 but he seemed pleased with the effort I had made to dress and accessorise. He continued complimenting me and talking about my body as his fingers let go of my necklace and began to unbutton my blouse. I was filled with pride at his words and I guess turned on by them. He began to tell me how he had prayed that he would pick me and had been anxious as each man before him chose their keys. I didn’t want to tell him that I was praying for the opposite so I kept quiet and let him carry on.

  He gently removed my blouse and then kissed me. His hand touched my face as we kissed and then my neck, then shoulder, until it slid all the way down my arm, taking my hand once again in his at the bottom.