BDSM,  Memories,  Personal,  Relationships,  Sexuality

“You want me to do let you put what where?!” The failed swinging experiment.

The fun kind of swinging!

So, you know. I thought I should broach this topic. Swinging. And not like the photo up there, think a warehouse space, with lots of rooms, with lots of people… just shagging. Every which way you can think of.

It’s not really kinky per se, but there is a lot of kinky people who swing.

I just don’t happen to be one of them.

When she suggested the idea to her husband she was quite surprised that he was not upset. On the contrary he seemed quite interested. It took them a while to find the courage but they finally gave it a try.

They both liked it and it improved their sex lives for a while. But the one thing my client had not expected was feeling jealous when her husband had sex with women who, in her opinion, were better looking and more sexy than she was.

Although she is an attractive woman she began to feel more and more insecure. She decided not to take part in swinging any more but her husband is now disappointed and blames her for suggesting it in the first place. – taken from this article

It’s not one of my foray’s that I’m particularly proud of, however it gave me an insight into myself that I would never have gotten otherwise. And I probably could have handled it better, however stick a 24-year-old in a swingers club and you get all kinds of weirdness. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing.

This was possibly about the 2nd or 3rd year that I was out into the kinky scene in Sydney that my then D-type (dominant/master/sir/whatever) and I had been out partying on a boat with a lot of other people and this one girl was hitting on me pretty hard. She invited us to go to this club that they would be at later, what kind of club I ask. A couples swingers club…

I went rather quiet at this as I tried to work through all the varying emotions that raged inside me. The D-type and I were in a monogamous relationship, this was new territory that we never discussed. So my emotions ranged from curiosity, to jealousy, to disgust, to lust, to self-hatred that I would even contemplate going to such a thing.

My D-type had such a hard on for her that even though I thought I wouldn’t be interested, he basically said we’re going. My tentative communications of “I’m not sure I want to go” weren’t taken seriously. Emotionally I felt like I was in a whirlpool. We got home and basically dressed up to go to this place. Which is pretty funny in itself right, why would you dress up to get undressed?

We got to the warehouse and were buzzed in, we signed in and paid. I started to freak out silently. The guy behind the counter fit my thoughts about what a swingers club operator would look like. He was hairy and shirtless. He had a huge gold chain around his neck. And he was leering at me. I literally hid behind my D type at the time as he talked to this disgusting man about protocols and rules before we walked in. I felt a bit like Dorothy. I wasn’t in Kansas any-more Toto.

I had the urge to dig my heels in and not budge when he said we should go inside.

But I went. There was a huge room that had rooms coming off it. There was a spa in the corner with people in it naked. I wondered if there was spermination going on in there. I mean, all those spa bubbles right? All those men? All that sperm! I might have dry retched at this idea and asked where I could go for a smoke. I needed a smoke. I was advised there was a smoking roof. I ran up the stairs and into the night. I bent over and slowed my breathing before finding a corner I could lean against. I refused to sit on the couch, gods only knows how much contamination was on it. It could be like a dna & juice party. Yes, there was more dry retching as I rolled a cigarette. I decided at this point that this place was not for me. At all.

A couple came through the doors as I lit up and wandered over to me. They asked me why I still had my corset and skirt on. I advised that we just got here and I don’t want to take them off because I wasn’t comfortable in doing so. They tried to urge me into at least getting into a towel.

The thought of actually removing my clothing was so horrific to me that I decided I needed another smoke. Before I’d finished my first.

My head was literally buried between my cleavage with a cigarette hanging out of the side of my mouth while I furiously rolled another. So sexy. I know. I put the class in classy.

At this point I started to also get angry. Angry at myself for being there. Angry at my D-type for making me come because he wanted to stick his dick in the girl who was clearly hitting on me and not him. Angry that I didn’t fit in here, I was the odd one out, again…. He found me chain-smoking on the roof about 45 minutes later and asked if I was going to come inside. I thought about it. And said probably not. He then ranted at me that he’d paid for us to be here and the least I could do was give it a go.

Inner debate: He has a point, he paid a lot of money for us to be here. Yes but he only paid it because he wants to fuck that girl. But he still paid so stop being an ungrateful bitch and give it a chance. But it’s all so disgusting, why why why am I here? Can’t I just leave? Stop it. Go and put that stupid towel on. FUCK!

Outer conversation: Yeah ok, I’ll give it a go. Where are the change rooms?

So I changed into a towel. That I had wrapped around me as tight as I could have it and followed him out into the stomach churning DNA pig pit as I called it in my head. He led me over to the girl who had hit on me and her partner. I felt like a lamb to slaughter. Sure she was cute enough and I’d have probably done her if I was single. But that he was pushing me turned me off her quicker than anything you could think.

My bisexuality is not a show for whoever I’m with at the time. I don’t fuck girls for their amusement. Their pleasure, or any other stupid reason. I fuck girls because I want to. I find them attractive, I love the way they smell, taste.. I love their softness, their intelligence… I love the soft sighs, moans, and the way they wrap their fingers in my hair and scream.

I am not a bear on a chain to dance to anyone’s whim. I guess this is why people keep telling me I’m not submissive, but that’s another story no?

She picked up where she left off with her flirting. I just wasn’t as flirty, if anything I might have been about as interesting as a door. I wasn’t feeling it. I felt self-conscious in a towel surrounded by sweaty old men who were making me feeling gross. And then she said that she’d love to whip me. My D-type thought this to be a wonderful idea. I figured it was better than letting anyone stick anything else in me so I bent over. She swung wildly. The end caught my belly. I cursed and told him to tell her to pull back. She’s missing. She swung again and totally hit my stomach. For anyone that’s been whipped, wrap around is not nice. It makes me crankier than a bear with a sore tooth. Especially when it’s hitting my stomach. This time I sighed and actually moved my ass so that her blow connected to it and not my stomach again. My D-type was obviously too busy wondering how he could fuck her to actually tell her on where she was going wrong with her swings. This time she wrapped and got just above my hip bone. It hurt like no one’s business. To the point that my eyes teared up and I had a blood blister straight away. That was it for me. I stood up. Thanked her and advised that I needed a cigarette and that I’d be back soon.

I ran off back to the roof terrace. My solace. To lick my wounds, cry a bit and chain smoke some more. I don’t know how long I was up there. I was just sitting there with my towel… praying to whichever god would listen that I hoped he fucked her soon so I could go home. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so worthless, alone and useless as I did right then.

At one point my D-type came up to check on me to see what was taking me so long. He asked if I was going to go back in. I said no. I asked him if he’d fucked her yet because I wanted to leave. He said no. I advised him that I would really freaking appreciate it if he went and did that as a point of priority so that we could go. I told him that I would stay on the roof until he was ready to leave and would appreciate if he could let me know when that was so that I could get dressed.

I gave up waiting for him to come get me by about 3am and decided to go find him. He was with a group of men watching her get face fucked by some other guy while her partner was explaining to the guy how he wanted her choked, gagging and crying. Maybe he was waiting for his turn? I have no idea. I started to go to sleep on the stool with my head on my hands on a tabletop.

We left at some point, I have no idea what the time was. He never got to have a go with her. I was secretly happy, yet also really really angry. That we stayed somewhere he knew I was having such a horrible time at. For his own dick that didn’t even get what it wanted. And that was when I started to resent him. That little black dot of hate in my heart blossomed this night.

Like the woman in the article I measured myself against every woman that was in that place and found myself lacking. Even though several men told me otherwise on the night, I brushed them off because at the end of the day, they just wanted to stick it in and I wasn’t going to let them.

Moral of the story? Don’t ever let anyone talk you into doing something that you’re not comfortable with. It’s just not worth the emotional turmoil that will inevitably follow.

And ever since, every time someone says that I’d enjoy a swingers club – I politely tell them that they actually turn my stomach and I don’t really want to spend a night vomiting. However I’m rather happy to have a bed full of people who I connect with and really do want to shag and enjoy that a lot more. But thanks for the offer anyway.

I’d rather be a promiscuous slut on my own terms.

20 Comments

  • Aussa Lorens

    This is so fascinating. I’ve read one other blog post from someone who wandered into a swingers club but she was with a friend and they really just looked around. This is straight madness, I honestly can’t imagine. I wouldn’t want to touch any surfaces and the idea of strangers does not excite me… not in a tangible real life sort of way. YIKES. And your D-type sounds like D for Douche. What a selfish son of a bitch. I know what you mean about a little drop of hatred welling up inside of you that continues to grow. Been there, felt that and have also been dragged to places I wanted to escape from.
    Damn, crazy story! Thanks for making me feel so tame!

    • Sharn

      Yeah, I think I came to that conclusion too.

      I like shagging strangers, but on my terms, in my bed where it’s clean and I have control.

      I think what squicked me out the most was that everyone was doing everyone and there was no apparent desire or connection. It was like a porn gone wrong. All grunting and sweating and disgusting stuff without the soft touches, the whispers or the naked connection from someone you have a bit of a crush on.

      Oh yes, that lovely drop of black that invades… I think what pissed me off more was that I felt that I had to be there. That I had to perform. Just so he could maybe get laid. And not only that I think it was the night he broke my trust in him as my dominant who looked after my well being first and foremost, because he didn’t. So yes, that little drop of hate. It started here.

      I hate being taken to places you don’t want to be, this felt like it was amplified a million times over!!

      LOL Oh Aussa, you’re as tame as a goanna. πŸ˜€

  • divorcedandsingleblog

    Ugh this sounds so horrible. I think the worst part of this story is the guy you were with. What an ass!
    I have never been to a swingers club. Sometimes I think it might be pretty exciting, but I think it’s just a fantasy. I would hate it, I know that deep down.

    • Sharn

      I’m a firm believer of trying things.

      That being said however I’m also a firm believer in putting my partners emotional health above my getting laid too.

      I think if he had actually cared he would have left it and took me home when I actually wanted to go.

  • TK

    This is why I’d never be able to do anything like this. I’m open to plenty, but not involving other people I will get jealous and that jealousy will ruin the relationship. There’s no way around it. Thank you for sharing your story.

    • Sharn

      Hey TK,

      Thanks for that.

      I think jealousy is a natural part of any relationship. Open or closed. I think what a lot of people expect is that if a relationship is open then there’s never any jealousy. It’s a lie. We all have days where we feel insecure. It’s a matter of actually letting your partner know this so that they can give you the time and assurance you need to feel secure in your relationship again.

      I often explain it like building a house. If your foundations are weak, it’s going to fall down. If your foundations are strong and you often check and repair them it will stand forever.

      Xx

      • TK

        “We all have days where we feel insecure. It’s a matter of actually letting your partner know this so that they can give you the time and assurance you need to feel secure in your relationship again.”

        This is so true. I see too many people who end a relationship because their partner was jealous. In what I would consider a healthy relationship, I think a person should be able to admit their jealousy and know the other person won’t judge them for that. Two mature adults should be able to talk about jealously and insecurity in a civil manner.

  • Beth Teliho

    OMG did we seriously both post about swingers today??? haha! Love it!

    I’m so sorry your douche canoe forced you to go, and GROSS to that place! Holy shit, I had NO idea those places were so nasty. GAH. That freaks my freak actually. I would’ve been on the roof smoking, too.

    • Sharn

      hahaha I know right! It must be something in the air I tells you.

      Yeah, I think he was a bit of that too.

      I’m sure there are nice ones however the overriding factor (being my brain) is the image I have of organisms multiplying in and around furniture tends to put me off anything bar standing next to a wall chain smoking. And these days I don’t even smoke!!

      I think it’s one of those experiences that I don’t think I’d ever want to try again. Thanks.

  • Mal Content

    I think it’s funny that people lump any non-“vanilla” sexual proclivities into the same pile. Like: If you’re bi/curious, you must be in to polyamory. Or if you’re poly, you must like BDSM.

    Or, if you are open-minded to any of those things, then you must want to participate in them.

    My wife and I have talked about swingers clubs and have decided that we would do it if the following criteria were met: Zero risk of STDs, Zero risk of jealousy or insecurity, and only young, attractive people present. So, in other words, never.

    • Sharn

      Yeah it is a bit all lumped into together.

      And I would be the oxymoron on all.

      It wasn’t that strangers weren’t having safe sex. They were for the most part and most couples weren’t if they were fluid bonded. I guess it was the squick factor.

      And that’s an interesting viewpoint! However at the end of the day we all find what we are comfortable with the S.O. and run with it.

      And sometimes, even those goal posts change.

      Seriously though, there were so many things wrong with the situation above that I’m surprised it went as it did without being worse. I should be happy for that I guess.

  • ramblingg0at

    Awww sharn what he did was completely disrespectful. He should have left when you were uncomfortable. In saying that, I’ve been a disrespectful biatch in the past with fwbs. My bad, I just apologised recently to a fwb that I used and abused 7ish years ago (better late than never right?).

    Totally got off track there but heres a question – had he of not wanted to bone her, do you think you would have felt differently about being there? Seems like your anxieties stemmed from him wanting her. Just a thought.

    Yeah I get the whole missing out on the connection part but sometimes I like to jump on that ‘meaningless sex with strangers’ boat. Not sure why really because its usually rubbish. Maybe to reiterate to myself that I’m still sexually attractive to outsiders? Or because its completely random and stepping outside of the comfortable zone? Hmm who knows. For the most part I prefer regulars for all of those good things you mentioned – that familiar scent, the familiar sounds, and the good bit – knowing what each other likes.

    I’m sooo keen for a sex club and all its dirty sticky floors with randoms fucking everywhere but I’d have to be with a trustworthy Dom. There’s just some people (in fact most) I wouldn’t feel comfortable there with, so I guess you hit the nail on the head there when you described your experience. But had you have been with me, DD (our bodyguard hehe!) and been at a place with a bar where you could sit and chill for as long as you need, maybe it would have been completely different for you!

    • Sharn

      I agree, but I think there were a whole host of factors in my anxiety of the whole place.

      I felt really put out that I wasn’t even asked and then basically bulldozed into it. Then I felt a bit used and abused and not looked after with her ineptitude of play and that he didn’t say anything.

      I think there was a while heap of things that just sent the night bad. And to be fair, I still prefer orgys in my own bed πŸ˜‰

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *