Sex Without Strings: A Handbook for Consenting Adults (John Warren Wells on Sexual Behavior)

by Lawrence Block

  That first evening she came to our house. And it was great, really great.

  Then the week after, or maybe it was two weeks, I went over to their house. I forget what Bob did, I think he went bowling or something, I don’t remember. Anyway, I went over there myself, drove over to their place, and it was really exciting. It was such a different thing for me, going out for a sexual evening without him along. It felt very naughty, but in a good way because he approved completely; in fact, when I was leaving he told me to save some of it for when I got home, because he was going to be in a mood to screw my eyes out.

  It came off very well. I enjoyed the feeling of being out by myself, that was a kick, and I enjoyed the sex with both of them working on me at once, pleasing me at the same time, and I liked, oh, I liked everything about it, actually. They were warm and loving people and there was a closeness about the evening that was very nice.

  The kind of threesome we have is very different depending on whether it’s just me with another couple or another girl with Bob and me. I wonder if I can explain the difference. Let me try.

  First of all, when another woman comes to our house, it’s as though Bob and I are sharing her. It’s very much of a togetherness experience for both of us. For both of us, the object of the evening is to please this girl together and to enjoy her together. That’s what it amounts to, basically. Oh, some of the time she and I will both work together to please Bob, and there’s a lot of mutual voyeurism and exhibitionism, but the general tone of the evening is as I described it.

  Now, when I go and visit another couple, I’m basically playing the role the extra girl would be playing with Bob and me. I’m the extra girl and thus the center of attraction, and this makes me feel very sexy.

  We’ve had quite a few of these arrangements, where the husbands take turns staying home. A lot of our friends say they never heard of anything like it and that it strikes them as ridiculous, but a lot of others say that it makes very good sense and they want to try it that way themselves. As far as we are concerned, what makes sense to us is whatever gives us the most enjoyment and satisfaction. The idea of a swinger putting down somebody else for a particular sexual preference strikes me as utterly insane.

  I don’t know which type of threesome I like better, being the odd girl myself or being with Bob. I should answer automatically that I prefer being with my husband, but I enjoy the other very much too.

  Of course, Bob prefers it when he’s there. That’s obvious, but he really doesn’t feel left out when I visit people myself. Well, I phrased that badly; of course he feels left out, because he is left out, but what I mean is that he doesn’t resent it.

  Of course, we’ve reached the point where we do know some single girls, so our trios are not completely limited to the arrangements I’ve been telling you about. As a matter of fact, our closest relationship at the moment is with a former airline stewardess. She’s two years younger than me and divorced, just recently divorced, and Bob and I are both crazy about her. We see her very frequently, like we’ve been seeing her several times a month, and usually we have avoided getting involved with anyone, but so far we like the whole feel of the relationship very much. She hasn’t done much swinging, and basically we’re the only people she swings with, the only couple, although, being single, she does date guys in a general social sense and has sex with them if she wants.

  We talk and joke, all three of us, about how great it would be if she moved in with us. But I don’t know if that’s really something I’d like to get into. I like her very much, you could almost say that I love her, but if she actually lived here I think there would have to be a certain amount of competition between us and I don’t know if I’m anxious to get into all that. Not just competing for Bob, although that would be a factor, I think. But, oh, the day-to-day problems you would have to have if you had two women in a house with only one kitchen! I just don’t think it would work out. I’m sure it would be absolutely impossible if we were both straight, but even though we’re bi and very into sex with each other, I still think living together would be a hassle and I don’t like to feel hassled.

  Sometimes, to tell you the truth, sometimes I think that we ought to see a little less of her than we do. And that’ll very likely happen as time goes by, because in any relationship like this the novelty wears off sooner or later. One of the points of swinging is that you keep getting into sexual scenes with different people and there’s an element of novelty that keeps it exciting. I don’t like to fuck strangers in the sense of parties where you don’t even know their names, but it seems to me that developing a closed circle of friends and never seeing anyone else would more or less defeat the whole purpose of swinging.

  I told you before that I never had any second thoughts about being bi, and that was the truth, but I have to admit I’ve had some thoughts on it lately. Sometimes it seems to me that maybe I’m more of a lesbian than I really want to be. I still always enjoy making love with Bob, but I’ve noticed that sometimes when I’m with another woman and her husband, I sort of wish he would go for a long walk and just leave me alone with his wife. I don’t always have this feeling. It depends on the guy, and also it depends on the woman. But if I dig her a lot, and if it’s the first time I’ve been with them, well, I’m far more interested in having her, and his presence is a drag.

  I don’t know exactly what this means. I have a hunch it might be related to the sense of conquest, that I get a kick out of being the seducer, which I certainly do, and that it’s more of a job seducing a woman than a man. Maybe in bisexuality I express the masculine side of my personality, and thus I show male sex attitudes in the way I relate to a woman. I know I read in that book by Xaviera Hollander that the reason she’s butch in her bi relationships is that the whole excitement of balling another girl is the thrill of turning her out and getting her off, and I agree with that one hundred percent. I’m exactly that way myself.

  Anyway, I don’t suppose it’s really anything to worry about.

  Letters, Letters, Letters

  The category of swinging is a broad one, It’s an arbitrary line that separates a married man cheating on his wife from a married man “swinging as a single.” It’s an equally arbitrary line that distinguishes between a single person participating in the swinging subculture and one who is simply leading an active social life. And I would submit that it is rather unimportant to make these distinctions; I’m far more interested in individual people and what they make of their individual lives than how best to label them and pin them to a board.

  Thus, the following selection of letters, which you may or may not regard as typical of swingers, according to your own lights. You may, further, find them and the lives they lead either commendable or contemptible or somewhere in between. But I’d be more than a little surprised if you didn’t find them at all interesting.

  First, a pair of letters from Jean-Paul:

  Dear Jack,

  I just finished Doing It! and was very favorably impressed with the concept of a column devoted to open discussion of all types of sexual activity and feelings; it seems just the item to air a truly representative range of ideas concerning sex. Although I haven’t read that magazine in a number of years, I’ll have to now start again if for nothing else than to read your column.

  (All for nothing, I fear; the bloody magazine dropped the column—JWW)

  I’d like to tell you about my sexual predilection and, possibly, solicit your suggestions and opinions regarding it. For many years I have been a bondage lover. My preference when having sex is to tightly bind and gag the girl and subject her to minor indignities and discomforts such as stroking her flanks with a horsehair pad or spanking or flogging her. For the past ten years I have been in the Navy and my travels over the world have given me ample opportunity to indulge my desires with prostitutes. Sometimes I do love to reverse the role and be bound and gagged myself when having sex. I suppose this may indicate a desire to be chastened for my “misdeeds” in preferring
this type of activity, or it may simply mean that I am a sadomasochist rather than simply an occasional sadist.

  One of my favorite incidents occurred when I was in the Philippines. I had negotiated for the evening with a lovely little high-breasted hooker. After taking her to a hotel, I managed to make her understand that I wanted to tie her up before we got down to cases. She demurred until an extra bill made its way into her hands, then she somewhat grudgingly agreed.

  After I had her naked, I tied her hands behind her, lashed together her ankles and legs just over her knees, and then got my clothes off. By that time I had a huge erection; it was larger than any I could remember having previously. I took a cloth out of my pocket—I am always prepared for this sort of thing—folded it, and stepped behind her to gag her. She didn’t want that, however, and really fought like mad to jerk her head away—she had a huge scream just in the offing when the cloth jammed itself between her teeth and I tied the knot.

  Suddenly she was twisting and squirming like mad trying to get free, evidently convinced that I was some madman about to do away with her. Enjoying the scene, I slowly donned my protection—Filipino whores are generally lousy with VD—and walked over to the bed. Freeing her legs, I pried them apart and set myself to the task ahead. After several minutes of screwing, she finally decided I wouldn’t hurt her and relaxed somewhat.

  After I finished, a devilish plan began to form in my mind. I dressed somewhat hurriedly and tied her legs again, turned her face down on the bed, and tied her ankles and shoulders to the bed. Then I went out, hanging the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob.

  For a long time afterward, I would get a thrill imagining her embarrassment when the cleaning girl finally would come in and find her tied up there. I had no fear about her getting me in trouble, since there were several ships in at that time, and I didn’t think a known prostitute would go to the authorities and admit she’d been taken advantage of or used as a genuine, rather than a surrogate, sexual object.

  That was only one of my experiences abroad. I also have an extensive collection of color bondage photos and the illustrated pamphlets of the sort to be obtained in adult bookstores. I would estimate that in the past ten years I have put about eight hundred dollars into this collection. When it’s not possible for me to obtain sex in the usual way, I use various types of the books or photos as masturbatory stimuli. It’s very exciting even in this way; since I have so many photos and don’t masturbate to excess, each time I can have a different fantasy and never really run out of ideas.

  I would say that my sex life is satisfactory except for the fact that I have never had any true bondage situations with my wife; she knows a little about my idiosyncrasy, but not all. At times when we indulge in horseplay we’ve tied each other, but neither of us has been tied while indulging in sex.

  I would like very much to screw her while she’s helplessly bound, but am not sure exactly how to go about doing it without scaring her off the idea, or, for that matter, how to get her to do the same to me. She doesn’t know about my dealings with the prostitutes overseas, and each time I go out to sea I’m confident in the knowledge that I will be able to permit myself all the desires of my libido without danger.

  When I’m home, I have and enjoy regular sex without any feeling of guilt over my actions; however, the fact that I crave passive algolagnic acts may, as I said before, indicate that subconsciously I might have guilt. At any rate, consciously it doesn’t adversely affect me. And it is exciting to know that there is a facet to my life that no one but me knows about. It reminds me greatly of what you mentioned about others getting a thrill out of keeping sexual secrets; I suppose it’s the same thing.

  Well, Jack, there you have basically my sex “thing.” I was glad to be able to get it down for you and I would value your letting me know what you think about it. I know a lot of people are just like myself in their desires and so this letter won’t seem too unusual. Nonetheless, I would like to hear from you, especially in regard to what you think I could do about my wife. Also, if you’d like to hear about some of my other overseas “adventures” it’d be my pleasure to tell you about them as candidly and openly as I can.

  Very truly yours,

  Jean-Paul

  My reply was rather perfunctory—thanking Jean-Paul for his letter, expressing interest in hearing more from him, and suggesting ways in which he might hint at his interests to his wife without exposing himself unduly. I added that he might find out she shared his fantasies and they had each been keeping it a secret from the other—this does seem to happen a great deal of the time. I also added that his enjoyment of passive S-and-M didn’t need any profound psychological interpretation, that sadism and masochism were largely two sides of the same coin, and that it was normal for him to enjoy both sides—insofar as S-and-M was to be considered normal in itself.

  I received this letter a couple of weeks later:

  Dear Jack,

  It was good to get your recent note in reply to my letter. I took particular interest in your view that S-M devotees usually go both routes; I’d not particularly like to think of myself as having a guilt complex—after all, S-M is fun!

  As far as getting my wife into the swim, I’d really like that but so far haven’t had too much luck. We have fooled around a little bit along the lines of discipline but she seems pretty hesitant to get right down to cases, and I must say I really wouldn’t want to force her into it against her desires. Time alone will tell what will become of this dilemma. We’ll just have to cross our fingers or, as the Germans say, “Drücke die Daumen!”

  . . . I believe I mentioned in my last letter my rather extensive collection of photos and booklets; these can be obtained by mail with far less trouble than frequenting bookstores. You know, Jack, in these days of sexual emancipation it’s nothing at all to go into one of those stores and pick out a good collection of fuck books, but for those who like the offbeat it’s more difficult because, after all, who wants to take a chance on an acquaintance seeing one browsing through that sort of thing? This in itself might be a good topic for an article or short book—The Psychology of Adult Bookstores might be a real hot item. What do you think? The ideas just keep rollin’ along!

  . . . Well, I guess that’s about all I have for the time being. I’ll keep looking for more information for you, and next time I write I’ll be sure to tell you about one of my other experiences. (It’s good to be able to share the goings-on with someone who’s genuinely interested!)

  Best regards,

  Jean-Paul

  A fellow in the Midwest, whom I’ll call Lew, sent me a brace of rather bracing letters, which I somehow feel compelled to share with you good people. (He also sent me, as you’ll see, what he called a homemade French tickler, consisting essentially of a rubber band with some knotted yarn fitted around it, and that I won’t share with you, or indeed with anyone.)

  I have no idea how much of Lew’s story is to be believed. He is, by his own admission, something of a con man, but even a con man spends a certain amount of the time telling the truth, On the other hand, as you’ll see, he had an ulterior motive in writing to me.

  But enough commentary, Lew’s letters are rather a delight in their own very special way, and I’ll get out of the way and let you read them yourself.

  Dear Jack,

  You don’t know how nice it is to read something worthwhile for a change. I have just read your book Doing It! and it is one of the best books I have ever had the pleasure of reading,

  (It’s a little embarrassing to reproduce this patent bullshit, but Lew is very big at laying it on with a shovel, as you’ll see—JWW)

  Just for the heck of it I will mention a few of my experiences that certain parts of your book brought to my mind.

  Did you know that a convict at the Ohio pen got electrocuted when he connected a 110-volt wire to a copper tube and inserted it into his anus? I was told this story by another ex-con about eleven years ago.

  I guess he had be
en enjoying the sensations that the flow of current caused for quite a few weeks before he had a rather unfortunate accident. In the greenhouse he would stand on a dry board and would plug only one wire, the positive one, into an electrical outlet. Without any ground no electricity would flow, so he felt nothing. To get his gun, he would carefully touch a green plant, and this would complete the circuit and allow a small amount of current to flow into his anus. To increase the amount of flow he would touch the plant closer to the soil. All went well until he accidentally let his bare buttocks lean back against an out-of-service steam radiator. He let out a scream, crumpled to the floor, and was dead.

  A week or so before his death, I experimented by placing a short copper tube in my own anus, but I employed a train transformer like the other nut in your book. I used two wires from the secondary 0-22 V. a.c. of the transformer. One wire went to the tube. The other was a thin enameled wire with a few inches cleaned at its end. This free end I wrapped around the head of my penis. Then I would very slowly regulate the rheostat on the transformer until I had enough current to produce a mild and pleasant sensation in my penis and anus.

  I quit this when I got married.

  Once while in grade school I got the idea of letting a nightcrawler go inside of my penis. Well, actually I never did this, but I suggested it to a classmate . . . He loved to do this.

  As mentioned in your book, intercourse is great in the water. I have discovered a way that I think is wonderful. First find a pool, pond, or lake whose bottom gradually gets deeper. Then have a gal step inside an auto inner tube and pull it up under her armpits. Then both of you walk out into the water until she can wrap her legs around the back of your waist. Then, while standing you push her swimsuit to the side, and shove your hard thing in her. In the same position out of the water it is a very hard way to do it, but while the tube holds her weight up, it is wonderful. And she can even bounce up and down on it, or you can take turns doing it to each other.