What I Learned at Swinger Clubs

I have always been a fan of the unique sexual experience. Never one to enjoy being boring and stale, I pride myself on getting out there and learning to be adventurous. Some of my partners have been amenable to these "adventures" and some, not so much. But I don't judge. The key is to be open, and I am not just referring to your legs being open. Sex is about the mind, the heart and the body. Any situation that can engage those three and the rest of of your senses, is something worth exploring.

Swinging was something that I had been curious about, but had never had the opportunity to try. When I finally did, I couldn't believe that it had taken me so long to get myself to a swinger club. They are easier to locate than one might thing. You just have to know how to find them. This is where the magic of Google comes in. There are a many websites that will introduce you to your local swingers hangout. God bless the internet. Once I was in, there was no turning back.

Tips for Beginners

The underground world of swingers has bubbled to the surface over the past few decades, but it can still be scary. Here is a step-by-step guide to be coming the ultimate savvy swinger.

In Search of a Swingers Bar

If you live in Hollis, Oklahoma or Two Gun, Arizona, forget it. You have to get to a fair sized city to find a swingers' bar. How do you do it?

Check the internet. If you want to go old-school, sometimes porno shops and adult bookstores feature swingers bulletin boards where ads for swinging establishments appear. Ask a couple of cab drivers. Call the Sexual Freedom League. Ask a couple of bartenders. Just look and ask and you'll be able to find a swingers bar. But searching on the world wide web is still your best bet.

Winging It

Once you are seated comfortably at the swingers' club, what do you do? Look and ask. Watch the action and see if you can figure out just how contact is made. Sometimes it's easy to spot, other times it's much more subtle. If you run into a problem at this point try asking the club host or hostess what the make out procedure is. If this doesn't work simply try asking some chicks to dance and offer to buy a drink for a few likely looking couples (or whatever target you may have in mind). In short, wing it and see how the chips fall.

Your Place Or Mine

It's always best to try to arrange the swinging at your place where only you have access to the whip and chain locker.

If your swinger friends are as afraid of you as you are of them, they probably won't want to go to your place either. First encounters are often best played out on neutral ground. Split the price of a nice motel room at a far corner of town. Next time, after you know them better, try their place if you think it's okay. But exercise a sensible amount of caution no matter what.

Name Your Poison

Before the games ever start the rules should be agreed upon. Some swingers enjoy sadomasochistic games, others are into unusual activities—like enemas and water sports, for example. So, unless you don't mind getting pissed on or ending up at the "wrong" end of an enema, you'd better make your limits known to everybody involved. Just state simply what you will do and what you won't and go from there. It is always advisable to have a safe word.

Paying the Fiddler

At first glance swinging looks exciting, stimulating, all hats and horns, but there are serious considerations which should be pondered.

Going to bed with a few strangers in a strange place is putting a lot of trust in people you don't know. Are Bonnie and Clyde among the group? Is the Jack the Ripper of swingers at the party? Is there a hidden camera in the ceiling, making pictures which could be used in blackmail schemes or sold as porno pix? And what about STDs? These people make sexual contact with a lot of strangers, so how can you be sure?

The list could go on almost endlessly. It is clear that there are many pitfalls which could possibly extract a high price for the fiddling. Look before you leap and after that, well, good luck.

My Story

Here’s a tale for the reader who might be contemplating the idea of checking out a swingers club—and for those readers who are simply curious about such things. What I’m going to do is describe the last evening I spent at a swingers club step-by-step so you will have a fairly good idea of what goes on in such establishments. So, settle back in your easy chair and let your mind go because we’re going on a field trip.

I’m tooling up Pico Boulevard in West Los Angeles, keeping a lookout on the car just ahead and also for a bar called the Top Hat (fake name, just to avoid any legal hassles which might arise). Nine o'clock here on the coast on this Friday night. My business is all taken care of and I have the entire weekend to myself to do whatever I want. And how better to start off the weekend than by paying a visit to the Top Hat to see what sort of action I can find?

The Top Hat is a swingers bar, not to be confused with a swingers club. A swingers bar is simply a bar that caters to a swinging crowd. There is no swinging taking place in the bar. It is a meeting place, a sounding board, where the sexually adventurous congregate. Usually there is no cover charge, no minimum, no membership fee—just walk in and order up. The swingers clubs generally have sex on site, charge per couple per visit and quite often don’t serve alcoholic beverages. How do I know that the Top Hat is a swingers bar? I found an ad which was very suggestive of that fact. Then I followed up by making a phone call to the Top Hat.

"I’m from out of town, in Los Angeles on business, but I have the weekend free," I explained over the phone. "I’d like to make contact with some serious swingers. What are my chances at your place?"

"Fairly good unless you’re a real slob," a female voice said.

"Any special rules?" I asked. "We don't want any hustlers and we don't want any trouble. Outside of that you’re home free."

"Okay, I’ll see you tonight. What's a good time to drop by?"

"Things start picking up around 9. We close at 2."

I check a street sign and discover that I only have a couple of blocks left to go. Then just ahead on my left I see a small simple sign, black letters against a white illuminated background, which says: THE TOP HAT – COCKTAILS AND DANCING. I park just across the street, lock the car, and then stand for a moment casing the neighborhood and the bar. It isn't Beverly Hills but it certainly isn't the slums either. There are perhaps a dozen cars parked along the block and since the Top Hat is the only business which is open I assume most of the cars belong to customers. Well, we'll see.

I walk across the street and go inside. The bar is just to the left, about 20 stools, a fairly decent stock and a nice looking blonde bartender with nicer boobs. Just opposite the bar are seven or eight tables each with four chairs. Just beyond the end of the bar is a small dance floor, then some booths, more tables, and finally a pool table at the very back of the room.

I select a seat at the bar near the dance floor and order my usual Jack Daniels and water. There are a half-dozen single guys sipping drinks at the bar. A couple of the tables up near the bar are occupied by foursomes, two gals, two guys. A booth near the dance floor is taken by a couple in their early thirties—nice looking chick in a black dress with a neat looking partner. Toward the back a few more booths are occupied but it’s dark and I can’t make them out very well. A waitress is making the rounds, checking to see who is dry.

The blonde bartender sets my drink on the bar. I want to strike up a conversation with her but before I can say a word the phone rings and she is gone. So I sip the drink and look around just like the other guys at the bar. The foursomes at the tables seem involved in conversation and drinks—perhaps they are not swingers but only curious. Then I glance at the couple in the booth near the dance floor and the gal makes eye contact with me, smiles, and nods slightly. I do the same, then glance at the guy she is with to see how he is taking everything. When our eyes meet he nods slightly and then says something to the gal. They talk for a moment, whispering almost, and then the guy signals the waitress. I figure these people are drinkers and maybe not swingers so I look back toward the blonde bartender. She is still on the phone. Suddenly the waitress appears at my side at the bar.

"The couple over by the dance floor want to buy you a drink," the waitress says with a knowing smile.

"I’m from out of town," I say, "Are these people regulars? I guess what I’m really asking is—are they swingers?"

"I don’t know for sure," the waitress says. "They come in here maybe once per month. I’ve seen them leave with another couple twice, never a single guy." The waitress looks around and studies the couple for a moment. Then she turns back to me, "Hell, take the drink and play it by ear."

"Good advice," I nod. "Tell them thanks and ask them if they’d like for me to join them."

Then I push a couple of bucks into the waitress's hand and say, "Thanks for the advice, hon. Any tips you can give me will be appreciated."

Moments later I’m sliding into the booth with the couple. It was interesting that they slid around so that I would be sitting next to the gal.

Three's Company

"My name's Bill," I smile. "Thanks for the drink."

The gal, a buxom brunette not half bad looking, smiles widely and the guy says, "I’m Charles and this is my wife, Delores." I shake hands with the guy and then Delores says, "We’ve never seen you here before. Do you come often?"

I was going to say, "As often as I can," but instead I shake my head and say, "I’m from out of town. First time here."

There is perhaps 15 minutes of casual talk: the where you from, what do you do, married or not, kind of conversation. Finally Delores steers the conversation back where it belongs.

"What made you come to the Top Hat?" she says with an innocent look on her face. "There are a lot bigger and better bars in Los Angeles."

This is where the barriers start to come down, I think to myself. Then I say out loud, "Well, I was reading this underground paper and saw an ad for the Top Hat. It looked like an interesting place."

"Oh, it is," Charles says with a smile. "You meet really interesting people here."

Then the conversation drifts away again. Another round of drinks, more somewhat mundane talk, then Delores asks, "Are you a swinger, Bill?"

I smile and say, "Well, I’ve been known to participate in some rather unusual sexual escapades."

Charles chuckles and says, "Well, that's one way to put it."

I feel the drinks going through me so I excuse myself and make a quick run to the men's room. On the way back the waitress stops me and whispers, "Two couples just came in while you were in the restroom. Dressed in black leather, all of 'em. Watch out. I hear they are into S&M—heavy stuff."

I nod and thank her. My two bucks was well spent. When I arrive back at the table, Delores says, "Got something going with the waitress?"

"No, she's just friendly."

"I wouldn’t mind getting friendly with her," Charles says, gazing fondly after the scantily clad waitress.

"Charles!" Delores says with a mock frown. Then she turns to me, "Bill, what sort of unusual escapades do you get into?"

"Oh, you name it, I’ve probably tried it."

"Threesomes?" I nod and take a sip of my Jack Daniels.

"You and two gals? Or with another couple?"

"Both," I say.

"Sounds like my kind of guy," Charles says.

I wonder if there is a bisexual implication there so I decide to lay all my cards on the table. "Maybe we should define some limits," I say. "Just so we’ll know where we stand. Could save some time, trouble, disappointment."

"Good idea," Charles says. "I getta kick out of watching. Sometimes I join in, sometimes not. That's it."

Delores leans toward me and whispers, "We don't like any far out stuff. No pain. No bondage or anything like that. Once in awhile I might get into a bi scene with a gal if everything is just right but Charles is all straight."

"I second everything you said," I smile.

We order another drink and the toast is to a long and hopefully enjoyable evening. The decision has pretty well been made. Unless something goes awry I’ll be bedding down with this couple later on tonight.

Rubbin' Bellies

"Feel like dancing a couple of tunes?" Charles asks, "I’ll feed the jukebox."

“"Do you dance?" Delores says.

"Not well," I say with a shake of my head.

"Good enough to rub bellies on the dance floor," Delores smiles. "That’s about the extent of it."

A few minutes later while Delores and I are "rubbing bellies" on the dance floor I look over her shoulder at the two couples dressed in black leather, the ones the waitress had warned me about. They are sitting together, drinking, looking around the bar at the single guys and I wonder what plans they have cooking in their heads. Of the four the most outstanding is a tall, big boned redhead with her hair pulled back severely and wrapped tightly into a bun on the back of her head. The other gal and the two guys look just like ordinary folk dressed in black leather but the redhead has that look in her eye, a lean and hungry look that sort of gives me the willies. The slit up the side of her leather skirtreveals a splash of incredibly white skin peeking out just above black hose. Black high heeled boots, leather skirt, black hose, and garter belt—the only thing lacking are her whips and chains.

I feel a shudder run up my spine at the thought of what sort of treatment that redhead could dish out. To each his own, but no thanks.

"Are you cold?" Delores asks and pushes against me a little harder.

"It’s nothing," I say, changing my attention from the redhead to Delores. She smiles and presses closer. I can feel her breasts soft against my chest and she begins to move her hips in a very taunting manner. There is nothing I can do about it. My prick simply rises to meet the occasion.

"Oh, baby," Delores whispers in my ear. "I can feel it! Huuummmmm. Nice."

"You’re a very sexy lady," I say truthfully.

"Why don’t we go back to the table and see if we can get this show on the road? I think it’s past time for some fun and games."

"Sounds great," I nod.

The three of us have pretty well agreed that we are going to try a threesome. The rules have been defined—no pain, no bisexual scene, no bondage. But now we must agree on a place where the swinging will take place. It sounds simple enough. Where shall we bed down? Your place or mine? What's so complex about that? Plenty!

Think about it. How well do I know this couple? A couple of drinks and a trip around the dance floor with the lady... and that isn't much. How do I really know that they aren't some Bonnie and Clyde out to deliver me from the evils of the cash in my pocket? Suppose they slip me a downer and I wake up chained to the wall of a private torture chamber? Suppose they get off killing people? On the other side of the coin, what do they know about me? Hell, I could be the Jack the Ripper of swingers for all they know. And how do they know that I don’t have my special brand of Mickey just waiting for them? Clearly it’s paranoia time and for good reason. In the extreme case, someone could get killed.

Their place is 35 miles away, out in the San Fernando Valley. I know the area, middle-class suburbia, and I would not feel too uncomfortable there. I’m staying with a friend down at Playa Del Rey, right on the beach, which is only 10 miles distant. The address I give is an "in" address, 400 grand condominiums facing the Pacific, haven for TV stars and pro football players. Yes, my place would do very nicely.

"But what about your friend? The one you’re staying with? Would he object?" Delores asks.

"Mike?" I say and laugh. Of course they don’t know Mike so how could they know that he's a swinger, too? "No, Mike certainly wouldn't object. He's out with an airline stew tonight. If they come in while we’re there, they might join us. Would that bother you?"

"The more, the merrier," Charles chuckles.

"It’s fine by me," Delores says. That does it. Everything is settled and we are on our way. Charles and Delores follow me in their car, keeping stuck close to the rear bumper of my aging but still-running Austin Healey. We arrive at the condo in high spirits, take a brief walk down to the water, then slog back through the sand and go inside.

"Whew!" Charles whistles through his teeth. "This is some place."

"Yeah," I say, looking around at the very epitome of a bachelor pad. "I wish I could afford one like it."

After I conduct the tour of Mike's pad, after all the "ohs" and "ahs" are done, we settle in at the bar with drinks in our hands. Somehow getting out of the clothes is troublesome, but Delores solves that problem.

"Say, why don’t we all go for a quick dip? That ought to get the old blood flowing," she says.

We started stripping right there at the bar and that was as close as we were going to get to the water. When I started to go dig out some bathing suits, Delores just reached over and took my dick in her hand and that was it—the party was on.

The More the Merrier

I’m not going to bore you with a bunch of details. I’ll simply say that a good time was had by all, a good time which turned into a complete weekend. Here's how it happened:

When Mike and the airline stew walked in at three in the morning, they found Charles, Delores, and myself engaged in a rather intimate activity. It didn’t take them long to decide they would rather switch than fight. What a night!

Then the next day Charles and Delores called a lady friend who joined us for the remainder of the weekend, evening up the odds nicely. My night at a swingers bar had turned into a very pleasurable weekend and if you decide to give it a try, I hope yours does too.