We were finally swingers. After a year of exploring sex in so many weird ways, way outside the bounds of traditional monogamous relationships, we finally got to the point of partner swapping. I had a giddy urge to give my man a high five. We did it! Happily, it was all we hoped it would be, and I greedily wondered what the future held. I relished a life with more opportunity to experience the wild fantasies most people kept to themselves.
It was our first time patronizing the gay/lesbian/transgender/swinger friendly bar, and we were a little nervous. Bars weren’t really our scene. We were geeks, at home in libraries, cuddled up on the couch watching independent films, eating at cozy Ethiopian restaurants and browsing used bookstores. My partner Stephen didn’t even drink, didn’t really approve of it. I drank socially, and we both didn’t dance. But you sure aren’t going to encounter kinky sex with others via our usual routine, and that’s what we were after.
I sat close to Stephen and observed the patrons. Mixed in the crowd were a number of overweight women all in black–fishnet stockings, leather bustiers and boots. Turns out they were part of a domination/submission group that met there earlier in the evening.
I was not impressed, until I saw a stern man with his woman on a leash. He wore a trench coat, goatee and ponytail, and she was on her hands and knees on the bar floor, tethered close to his side. Every once in a while he would give her rump a swat with a flog. I watched in amazement as he went, unsmiling, up to the bar to order drinks, and she crawled subserviently behind him, and then kneeled. I noticed that when they got back to their table and began eating, he fed her, and then she fed him. I found it rather sweet.
At one point, he let her off the leash so she could approach other women at the bar and dance for them. It was as she walked around that I got a good look at her. She was HOT. She had the perfect body, long and shapely, long dark hair, a pretty face, and wore a black sheer body stocking that had revealing lattice from her cleavage to her ankles. She walked with grace and poise in her stiletto boots. I heard her say to one woman, “Excuse me, but my master asked me to dance for you. Would that be permissible?” The woman, embarrassed, consented, and did her best to enjoy herself as the stunning dog woman gave her a lap dance. She had the moves of a stripper, extending her long leg straight and high in the air, undulating and caressing herself.
After we had our fill of watching that, we decided to see what was going on downstairs, where there was another bar and dance floor. We found out that’s where the swingers mostly hung out. I had a couple drinks and we observed quietly. I liked that transvestites were at home here, in their brassy wigs and heels, claiming the women’s restroom as their own. There was a level of acceptance and comfort. We however were just about to be driven out by all the smoke and loud music when we were approached by a woman with long, tangled brown hair and a pierced tongue. “Hey, are you guys Stephen and Kendra?”
Whoah! We knew immediately who it was. It was Tori. We had met her chatting online a few days before, and she had told us about the place. We had exchanged pics, but were still surprised she recognized us. We were so grateful to know someone there, so we made short work of buddying up with her. She took us under her wing, and brought us back to her corner of bar where she camped out every Saturday night with her friends. Figures she’d be part of the group that was screaming every few minutes, I thought disapprovingly.
We settled in with her group, and met a nice married couple named Marti and Collin. Collin was a friendly truck driver with short hair, earrings, and rings on several fingers. When his perky wife Marti got up to use the restroom, he and Tori started making out. I had never been to a place where that sort of behavior was the norm. Besides the time that Tori forced me onto the dance floor to do the electric slide (I refuse to go into further detail) Stephen and I hung out at the bar, eyeing the other patrons.
We noticed another young, attractive couple sitting at a corner table. I kept looking over their way, and made eye contact several times, but wasn’t’ sure how to proceed. I slung my leg over Stephen’s, revealing a peek of my thigh hi. Collin noticed our hesitation, and encouraged us to go over and say hi. “Hell, if you don’t, I’ll do it for you!” OK, we didn’t need the friendly neighborhood swinger being our yenta. We looked at each other for courage, smiled nervously, then made our move. At least it’s easier to pick someone up at a bar when there are two of you. It’s nice to have that built in support. AND if you strike out, you don’t have to go home alone!
The nice couple seemed glad we approached them. The woman was a pretty brunette with sparkling eyes. She wore a white dress and nude pantyhose. The man was affable, with a southern accent, goatee, and cowboy boots. “Hi, I’m Kendra.” I had to lean close and shout over the music. “And this is Stephen.” She introduced herself as Amy, and her husband was Tim. It turns out it was their first time at the club, too, and they were thinking about leaving, satisfied to have at least checked the place out.
Once we broke the ice, it didn’t take long to get down to brass tacks. When we asked them about their sexual experiences, Tim blurted, “Well Amy has done this sortof thing before with her ex, but I’ve never had the chance, so I’ve felt left out. She said she didn’t mind if I got my feet wet, so that I wouldn’t feel like I was missing out on anything.”
“What kind of things have you thought about that you want to make a reality?” Stephen inquired.
“Well, I’d love to watch her with a woman, and with another guy,” he began, looking fondly at her, “And maybe have her suck another guy as I’m getting her from behind.” We nodded encouragingly. This was all stuff we were into. He plowed forward. “We met with another couple we met on line. See, I’m into pantyhose, it’s like a fetish of mine. I love when Amy wears dresses, I’m a real leg man. This other couple we met, they were into the pantyhose thing, too, but in order for us to meet with them, they told us…oh I can’t say it!” he exclaimed.
“No, please, go ahead,” we entreated.
After several false starts, he finally stammered, “They wanted all of us to—to—“
“What? They wanted the guys to wear pantyhose, too?” I offered.
“YES!” he exclaimed, a mixture of relief and humiliation flooding his face.
“Aw, that’s no big deal,” we told him. “Did you like it?”
“Kindof actually, I did,” he admitted. “It felt kindof nice. And when we were all rolling around on the bed, we didn’t swap or nothin’, but I did reach over and squeeze his wife’s titties a little. Gosh, now that I’ve spilled my guts to you, I feel like we’re best friends or something. Can you tell me something embarrassing about yourself so I don’t feel so bad?” he asked eagerly.
We laughed, and I said, “Well, Stephen likes cum shots a lot, and he’s really into women’s asses, which is a good thing, since if he was a tit man, he’d be in trouble.” I had perky B cups.
It was amazing; we were all novices, it was 2am, and we were all clicking. We weren’t sure how to proceed. Things felt right, but was it acceptable to suggest taking the party elsewhere that very night? Oh what the hell, the night wasn’t young, but we were. We politely offered some options, and all seemed receptive to seeking our entertainment elsewhere. So after deciding that we would follow them to a motel nearby, we bundled up in our coats and braced for the chill outside. It was sleeting ice, blustery, and the downtown streets were slick and dangerous.
We followed them to the motel, watching SUVs swerve on slippery patches, tense ourselves, not just from the inclement weather that threatened to put us out of commission, but unsure of what we had just ourselves into. After a few minutes, we arrived at the motel and secured a room. All four of us bustled into the frigid room, kicked on the heat, then sat around the proverbial campfire and discussed house rules as ice spat at the curtained window and sealed us in.
“OK,” I began, “Everyone has a different comfort level, so what are your limits, what don’t you want to happen? Such as, is kissing on the mouth OK, is oral fine?”
Tim thought for a moment, then said, “Well I don’t really like the thought of a guy cumming inside Amy, or cumming in her mouth.”
“Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem, we’ll wear condoms,” Stephen said.
“So how should we get started then?” I asked.
Tim suggested we all get in the bed together, so that’s what we did. Amy and I were in the middle, with our respective partners on either side of us.
All cozied up next to each other and giggling, Tim said, “So you gotta check out Amy’s crotch…” and he pulled up her dress to reveal her shaved pussy framed in a perfect “O” cut out of the crotch of her pantyhose. It was rather mouthwatering.
“Wow,” I breathed, impressed. “Did you buy those like that, or did you do it yourself?”
“We did it,” she said, smiling.
Tim got all eager. “So why don’t we start with you two making out?”
Sounded good to me. Amy and I leaned in and our lips touched. We kissed sweet lesbian kisses, very tender and delicate. She tasted so good, was so soft. Once we broke the ice, the guys jumped in, and started pulling off our tops and kissing our shoulders. Then they reached over their women to sample the other guy’s woman, and soon we were all groping. The temperature rose, clothes were shed.
Cooper here, I know, I'm a prick, but I'm ending it here for this week, you can pick up part 2 next week!
