Part One
It was almost scandalous when a swingers club opened in my hometown of 45,000 people in 1997. People thought those types of places had vanished by the end of the 1970s. Nope. That year about 20 likeminded couples rented a downtown locale that at various times had been a ceramics store, a yoga studio, and a martial arts dojo, and converted it into a fucking facility for couples who enjoyed swapping sexual partners. The locale was cleverly called Swap Meet.
I, Arnie Madison, was 33 years old at the time. As I hold libertarian viewpoints about allowing adults to do whatever they want to do as long as it is consensual and harms no one else, I had no qualms with the place at all. In fact, I learned that my neighbors, Bob and Millie McCord, were members there from Day One. From my conversations with them I learned how the place operated.
Membership was only open to male/female couples. They didn’t have to be married, but that was the norm. To acquire membership, the couple underwent an interview process to make sure they were healthy and responsible people who were not especially weird or sleazy. A few applicants did not pass muster according to the panel that accepted or denied memberships.
The club was open each weekend starting Friday at 1 p.m. until 11:59 p.m. on Sundays. You had to come as a couple, disrobe in the unisex changeroom, shower for the purposes of hygiene, and enter the “playing area” nude. The floor was covered with numerous, cushy gymnastics-type mats on which people got friendly, if they chose to do so. Typically, one couple would change sexual partners with another couple, but that was not an ironclad rule. If three couples happened to arrive at about the same time, there might be a case where Male A paired up with Female B, but Male B got together with Female C, and so forth. You get the picture. No one was forced to copulate with anyone. Sex acts were all completely voluntary. The participants were responsible for tidying up and sanitizing their fucking area once they had finished their business. I thought that was very quaint.
At its peak of prosperity, Swap Meet had nearly 50 member couples who paid $250 per month for the upkeep of the place. Over time, however, the novelty of Swap Meet began to wane. Its members got older (and less sexually active) or moved away. A few died. By 2015, membership numbers dipped to just fewer than 20 couples, so the remaining members decided to liberalize the rules to attract new people. You could now join as an individual for a monthly price of $180. Its older members jokingly referred to the revamped version of their club as “Swap Meet 2.0”
New applicants still were screened to keep out the riffraff, but overall membership at Swap Meet returned to its heyday levels. There was a local newspaper story about Swap Meet’s membership crisis. When the numbers rebounded and the club was saved, an updated story was published. A reporter interviewed one anonymous, longtime member who humorously said, “Thank heavens! I can continue to have sex with someone else other than my wife. I’m sure she feels the same way about me.”
Among the new members was...me! As soon as membership became available for individuals, the two McCords paid me a visit to officially promote Swap Meet. I was 51 and unmarried. The latter characteristic would have disqualified me under the old rules, but it did not anymore.
Bob said in his sales pitch, “This is perfect for you, Arnie. I assume you’re a healthy male who enjoys sex. Now you can drop in during the weekend, befriend some agreeable female, and do what men and women are designed by nature to do. What can be better than that?”
Millie agreed. “Arnie, off the top of my head, I can think of at least 10 female members who are about your age who would love to fuck with you. I am one of them!”
I chuckled aloud, but that last bit of info convinced me to join. Millie McCord was a fetching and busty brunette beauty whom I’d long admired from afar. Getting a chance to screw her—with the approval of her husband—would be a dream come true.
“Do you have an application form with you?” I asked.
Part Two
I submitted my application on a Tuesday. By Thursday, I had been personally interviewed by Swap Meet’s five-person membership committee. It was merely a formality as the McCords were both on that panel and spoke highly of me. I passed by a 5-0 vote, so I wrote a check for $180 on April 24 for my May 2015 membership. As a goodwill gesture, I was told my membership would also apply to the remainder of April. In other words, I would get the April 25-27 weekend free of charge. (“Yay!” I thought. “A weekend of free sex starts tomorrow!”) I planned on attending all three days. I loved bargains.
I worked from my home as a technical writer, which gave me considerable latitude to do whatever I wanted to do whenever I felt like doing it. On Friday, April 25, 2015, I felt like fucking some unknown female the moment I got out of bed at 9:15 a.m. Of course, I had nearly four hours to kill before my carnal fun could begin. I ate brunch and did three hours of work to occupy my time in the interim. I eagerly showed up at Swap Meet clutching my new membership card at about two minutes to one.
There were seven of us waiting for admission when the door was opened by Roland at precisely 1 o’clock. Roland was a member but he seldom partook in the club’s only activity. He monitored the door, updated membership records, and took care of any other issues that cropped up at Swap Meet. For doing these tasks, Roland got a free club membership. Because I wasn’t known to Roland, he gave me a suspicious look. I showed him my fresh, new membership card which jogged his memory.
“Oh, yes! I was told about you,” he said to me. “You’re the new member who was recruited by Bob and Millie McCord. Your membership has been duly backdated to April. Welcome to Swap Meet! I’ll show you where your locker is.”
Roland took me to a room and showed me a wall of small lockers that were big enough to hold a typical lady’s purse, but not much more than that. New members were assigned one and given a slip of paper. Written on it was the combination. I put my wallet, watch, and car keys in mine and was escorted to the changing room where the other six people—three men and three women—were already in the midst of disrobing. "Don’t they use their lockers?” I asked Roland.
“Not often,” he replied. “Most of our members just leave their valuables here alongside their clothing. No outsiders get anywhere near here. The people here at Swap Meet trust one another. We’ve never had any reports of theft in the club’s entire history.” That was good to know.
Roland instructed me to take a mandatory shower once I had disrobed. When I got there, I noticed the men were getting soaked from top to bottom while the women were all making sure the water wouldn’t mess up their hairdos. There were a stack of fluffy white towels waiting for us. I grabbed one, dried myself off, tossed the used towel into a large bin, and entered the “playroom” for some adult fun.
I had worried that I might be something akin to a wallflower at a high school dance whom no one wanted to pair up with. My fears of rejection were totally unwarranted. Within 15 seconds I was approached by a medium-sized, gregarious woman with auburn hair and a full figure named Betty Connors. She announced it would be her “privilege to welcome me to the club with a vigorous fuck” if I was interested. I was!
Betty was not bad looking at all—and certainly had a winning personality. As soon as I consented, she grabbed me by the wrist—not the hand—and led me to one of the plentiful floor mats. Each one, I later learned, was a square measuring exactly 15 feet by 15 feet. Pillows were liberally strewn near each one. “Grab a pillow and lie down somewhere in the middle, Arnie, and let me give you a blowjob. You certainly have a sexy dick.” My new membership at Swap Meet was off to a glorious beginning.
Betty worked skillfully on my phallus for seven or eight minutes, caressing it in ways that were heretofore unknown to me. (Granted, I had led a bit of a sheltered life. Before that April afternoon, I could count all my sexual partners on one hand and still have fingers left over.) She then stopped her fine work and said, “This is such a strong and beautiful dick that I want to continue playing with it, but I want you to lick my pussy, too. Do you think you can handle a ‘69’ position with me, Arnie?”
“I’m willing to give it my best effort,” I said.
Betty had an appealing, shaved pussy which I happily licked for several minutes, but I was more focused on the pleasure I was getting. Betty jerking and sucking on my hard shaft finally drove me to an orgasm. I did not have the best look at it, but I believe a sizable amount of my semen ended up in Betty’s mouth and on her face.
“Sorry about that, Betty,” I apologized. “I came far quicker than I intended.”
“No need to say you’re sorry, Arnie,” she replied good-naturedly. “I take it as a compliment to my womanly charms.” Within two minutes, Betty had a messy orgasm of her own thanks to my probing tongue, so we were even in that department.
We spent the next half an hour just cuddling and watching other people have sex. This was a new, fascinating experience for me. Betty helped with play-by-play, identifying who the members were and what sexual activities they did best. “That’s my husband Bill over there with Helen Gibson. She’s his favorite club member to fuck. He likes to bang her from behind and come all over her back.” As if on cue, Bill groaned, pulled his penis from Helen’s pussy, and shot a load of sperm onto her lower back. He turned around, looked at his wife secure in my arms, and gave her the okay signal with his right hand.
“I hope you’re having fun with our newcomer,” Bill said to Betty while fondling the cheeks of Helen’s behind. “As usual, Helen’s tight pussy put me over the edge.” These folks had remarkable attitudes. They had to be the most liberal-minded people when it came to sex whom I had ever met in my life!
Betty’s loving gropes had gotten me hard again—a rarity in my life since I had turned 50. “Want me to fuck you, Betty?” I asked her.
“I didn’t come here to play bingo, Arnie,” she said. “If you have another shot within your dick, use it on me, please.”
I took that as permission to place her in the middle of the gym mat, mount her, and fuck her pussy in the traditional missionary fashion—but with as much gusto as I could muster. Betty was moaning, so I must have been doing it well. Bill said from 20 feet away. “Attaboy, Arnie. You fit in nicely here at Swap Meet. You’re fucking Betty like a pro and she’s loving it. You’re doing great! Make sure you come inside her when you shoot your load.”
A minute later I did just that. Overcome with exhaustion, I slowly fell onto Betty’s torso where I merrily sucked away on her ample breasts for a good 15 minutes. She complimented me on my performance. “Arnie,” she whispered, “anytime we’re both here at the same time, you’ll never have to worry about finding a sex partner. Always count me in!”
Part Three
The next day, Saturday, I had plenty of work and other things to do at home, so I didn’t make it to Swap Meet until nearly 11 p.m. This time there were nearly 30 members present. I saw the McCords, each screwing someone else, of course, but everyone else was new to me.
Then I saw someone who was vaguely familiar. She was an attractive female, likely not too much older than 30. She was with no one (yet), sitting on a chair watching the entertaining sexual acts being performed throughout the large room. I approached her and politely asked, “Do I know you?”
She replied, “You should, Arnie. I’ve been a teller at your bank for six years now.”
I smacked my head with the palm of my left hand. The woman was Barbara St. Claire, one of the regular tellers I dealt with whenever I did my banking activities in person. “Of course that’s who you are,” I stated. “It’s a case of context. If you were in the bank, I’d recognize you immediately. However, it’s more difficult to place you in any setting where I haven’t seen you before. I think I learned that in Psychology 101 many years ago. So...what brings you here tonight?”
I knew that was an inane question as soon as it left my lips.
“I hope to do what all these people on the mats are doing. Isn’t that why you are here, too, Arnie?”
“I guess so,” I said with a laugh. “I’m new here. I just got my membership on Thursday and first used it on Friday afternoon.”
“You’re an old veteran compared to me, Arnie,” she said. “I got my Swap Meet membership verified only about five hours ago. I’ve been sitting here alone for 10 minutes. I’ve been waiting for someone to fuck.”
Upon hearing that remark, I raised my right hand skyward like a schoolboy.
“What a splendid idea, Arnie,” Barbara gushed when she saw my gesture. “Yes, I think I’d like to have a romp with you to break in my membership card. How does this work? Do we just go to a vacant mat and begin having sex?”
“I’m no expert on the rules of this place yet, but that seems to be the protocol here,” I said.
“Lead the way!” she said in response.
I took Barbara’s right hand in my left one and slowly escorted her to a far corner of the room. She affectionately rested her head on my shoulder as we walked to our destination. No other horny couple was within 20 feet of us. I embraced her before we moved to our mat. Barbara was about 5’5” tall. She had lovely, shimmering black hair that stopped just below her shoulders. Barbara had a very appealing figure highlighted by perky boobs and a hairy vagina. She was totally fuckable—and likely two decades younger than I was. I was starting to be a big fan of Swap Meet and everything it stood for!
I sensed my sex partner was a little bit nervous—because I was too! I told Barbara to forget that other people might be watching us, and to “just lie back, relax, and enjoy the fuck”. I handed Barbara a nearby pillow and I began to lovingly ravage this very pretty woman literally from head to toe. (It was actually the reverse order.)
I began my lovemaking by massaging and kissing Barbara’s cute feet. They were small for her size. Then I kissed her legs and thighs until I reached her vagina. I gently pried her legs open and did the same thing that brought Betty Connors to an orgasm about 35 hours earlier. I planted strategic kisses and licks in key areas of Barbara’s sexy vagina. “My dick will be inside you soon, my dear,” I whispered softly to her.
Moving upward, I planted kisses all over her torso to warm up for sucking her luscious breasts. Barbara’s nipples were simply outstanding anatomical features. They just begged men to focus on them. I did more than gawk. I sucked on them as if I were a hungry newborn. I couldn’t resist straddling Barbara in order to place my rock-solid penis between her two mounds and give her a titty-fuck. I could tell that was something new to Barbara, but she seemed to enjoy that quirky sex act as much as I did. Following that bit of fun, I embraced Barbara and gave her a long, passionate, romantic kiss. I was always a big fan of kissing females, even when fucking was just as easily available.
“Time to get down to business!” I told Barbara as I prepared to penetrate her pussy with my hard, throbbing dick. I used both my hands to gently spread her legs. Her vagina looked so inviting to me! I did my best not to rush. I rubbed the head of my excited penis against Barbara’s bodily opening for a few seconds and then pushed it inside her. I heard Barbara gasp for a moment and then gently sigh. I slowly shoved my dick in her as far as it could go. I wasn’t especially well endowed, but I could use my limited equipment as well as anyone, as I had proven on Friday afternoon with a club veteran. I wrapped my arms around her waist and began to fuck Barbara St. Claire thoroughly—but lovingly, too. We got into a nice rhythm together. It had a wonderful effect on the gal I was riding.
“Arnie, you’re going to make me come!” she said loud enough to be heard by most of the other folks in the room.
“That was my intention!” I said just as loudly.
I felt Barbara’s squirt for only a second or two before my own orgasm met hers. That was certainly a pleasant sensation! I continued to thrust hard and deep into her glorious muff. I only halted when I felt I had no energy left to continue. I pulled out and we cuddled together on the mat.
“I’ll have to thank my sister,” Barbara said to me. “My first month’s membership here at Swap Meet was a birthday present from her. I told her I was curious about this place. Hey, it’s a far better gift than the prepaid gasoline card she gave me for Christmas.”
That comment made me laugh. Then I said in return, “In all honesty, Barbara, I joined this club because my neighbors are longtime members—and the wife is very sexy. I have a tremendous desire to fuck her like crazy. She was already occupied with someone else when I arrived. But I couldn’t have gotten anyone better than you, Barbara. You were a truly marvelous fuck. You made me come like a geyser!”
Barbara beamed at my compliment. She noted, “Hey, you were a great fucker, too, Arnie. Your penis deserves a kiss.” Barbara bent down and did just that. It was quite amusing, but it was also a very sweet thing to do to the most important part of my anatomy.
We hugged and caressed each other for at least 45 minutes following our passionate fuck. “When will you be coming to the club next, Barbara?” I inquired as we both recuperated.
“That all depends...” she replied.
“Depends on what?” I asked.
“It depends on when you will be here next, of course! Fucking with you was great fun, Arnie! I could do that with you over and over again!”