Going Solo: Part 2

Trying to swing as a married single male, may be one of the most difficult, most non-intuitive, most un-meish things I have ever attempted. I have not been a sociable person by nature. I have been much more likely to watch from afar rather than engage conversation up close. In most social situations I would simply defer to my love, who would smooth the path for me, and she would give me more confidence just by being near. Now I am required to work psychological and social muscles long since atrophied, and try and project a confidence that I do not feel. I sometimes fail.

I order a club soda and lemon at the bar and look over the room. Which one might want to sleep with me? Someone?  Anyone? Is it possible I can be the only person in the room who can’t have sex at a swinger’s club? How could I possibly live that down? I silently brood, trying not to frown, working on not being the creepy guy, and again failing.

I lovely young couple in a tux and what looks like a wedding dress starts making out in the open area near the bar. He exposes her breasts, and she is absolutely gorgeous, adorably young and sweet, how could I possibly get her to talk to me…

Action is beginning in the side rooms, most of them open, where I can view the other couples. It is a wonder to behold, and if you, like me, have never experienced lots of people making love…fucking at the same time… it’s enough to take my breath away. My consciousness bumps up to a higher level, as if intoxicated on the experience of being in the middle of all this… I amble from room to room, drinking in the sensations, again wondering, how do I cross this threshold?

Back to the bar, another club soda with lemon, another breath mint. A lovely raven haired stranger, thin as a rail with nipples like half dollars on her ribs, wearing only garters and stockings, walks up to me and whispers in my ear, “Would you like to fuck me?”

OMG! Thank you! Thank You! I scream in my head. I manage to croak “I would love to”, and she leads me by the hand to one of the rooms. She asks if I want the door closed. In for a penny, I reason, in for a pound. “It can stay open” I tell her and we begin to kiss. It has been 25 years since I made out with anyone other than my love, and I wonder if I am mediocre at it. She asks me if this is my first time; I can only answer in one word… “Yes…” I am a virgin again, alone and inexperienced, trying to be brave. She strips me and I can see a crowd gathering at the door, watching my deflowering. She takes me into her mouth and I begin to melt. I run my hands over her skin, which is incredibly soft, caressing the small of her back and her buttock. The lovely stranger tells me her first name and asks if it is ok if she brings more guys into the room. “Ok with me.” My conversation is absolutely scintillating, but in truth, I am barely able to speak at all. While she goes down on each of us in turn, she whispers again in my ear, “Put on a condom and fuck me!” I fumble for a condom and can barely remember how to put it on. Ok, I will admit it’s been a while. I can feel the bones in her pelvis when I mount her, but before this turns into Penthouse Letters (too late!) a little voice goes off in my head. You have done it! You are here, naked in semi-public, inside another woman and having group sex with her. The magnitude of my bucket list items falling away in that moment, sounded with a thud in my soul. I lost my erection it was so stunning.

I muddle about a bit trying to get hard again, and then instead go down on her while she finishes the other partners.  She later tells me not to worry and it’s common the first time. She is very kind, and I am grateful to her for making my experience wonderful. If this were Penthouse Letters I would end it here as Mr. TS from Boise, IA. But I am incapable of always knowing when I am happy and experience doesn’t end as nicely as fiction. (I also don’t live in Boise)

I watch some more as it gets later, still high from my ordeal (I have to choose better words, it makes it sound like a toothache). I ogle a few more couples in the rooms, all with ropes across the doorways, barring additional partners. One woman is going down on her partner in an area with lots of futons and mattresses designed for orgies. There seems no barrier for further play here. I call over one of the staff (the same one I gave both my names to…sigh) and ask what protocol is. She replies just go over and ask. (That seems simple enough). I slink over to them then ask in what had to be my creepiest voice possible “Would you like another?”

For all of you who can see this train wreck approaching, in my defense I had not even learned of Life on the Swingset yet, hadn’t heard of Cooper or Ginger or Technogeisha or even spoken at length to any live swingers. I had just read a few ill-informed internet sites about what to do and not to do, though they all mentioned no means no.

To this day, I cannot recollect what the man said. I thought he said yes, I am sure he said yes. I KNOW he said yes…except he didn’t. I strip again and place my hand on his partner’s lovely buttock…

“Who has their hand on my ass??!!!!”…..

(Long pause)

“Dude, we just play with people we know, ok?”

“Sorry.”

I dress again, feeling all eyes on me, my nudity, not shaming me nearly as much as my social faux pas. I really don’t know what the hell I am doing. When the girl from staff asks what happened I mumble “It was a miscommunication, my fault.”

I leave soon afterward.

Obviously more experienced swingers can analyze what went wrong and where like watching Wile E Coyote drop an anvil. I almost gave up in that instant, that pause of zero-g before the long predetermined drop to the bottom of the desert. I didn’t, possibly because the evening really was going very well up to that point. But victory can turn to ashes really quickly. You can also go from a nice guy to a dick in just as much time. I became the reason single guys are not wanted in swinging. I will need to work all the harder to change.

There is an old story in archery. A young student kept missing his mark while his master watches him. Again and again he shoots but he cannot seem to hit his target. Finally the master speaks, “You fail, because you are focused entirely on the target. You are not paying attention to what you are doing.” Wise words, may we all pay attention to what we are doing in swinging as well as our vanilla life. Thus ends my first attempt going solo.