When my husband and I began our journey into the life of swinging we tried many things most of which I write about in my first book, My Story confessions of a Swinger. The book tells of how I met my husband and how we became swingers but back in those early days I was not the confident woman I am now. I can recall many scary times when my nerves were also very exciting. My husband too was nervous but we wanted to experiment and find our way so the one and only time we ever went to a club was on holiday in Europe . We had talked about it before hand but had decided against it, even though most evenings we walked past the club on our way back to the hotel. Then one night I was perhaps a little bit more drunk than the others and I turned to him and said, ‘Let’s do it.’ He smiled and we raced down the steps, hand in hand, scared and excited, but completely unaware of what we were getting into.
At the door we were met by three hefty looking bouncers who ushered us into a small room, which looked like a massive changing room with rows of pegs and an attendant. He was a small guy wearing only a pair of shorts. It was very warm inside and almost musty to smell. My husband described it like a men’s changing room. The attendant handed us a sheet of paper which had the club rules on it and a ticket for a peg. We were bemused at first but on reading the first line on the sheet we quickly realized that we had to strip naked to go inside.
At that point my husband wanted to leave but we had made it that far and neither of us fancied making a run for it passed those burly bouncers so we took off our clothes. One of the rules was that you had to keep your footwear on so there was me standing in my bra and pants with my high heels on and him in his boxers when he said, ‘I think we should go in like this.’ I agreed and we headed for the door to the club but the attendant stopped us and simply said in a European accent, ‘No bras.’ He looked stern and was stood with his hand out. I turned to my hubby and he nodded so I removed my bra and handed it to him, watching as his eyes nearly popped out of his head, before turning to see that look on my husband’s face. That look of; this is a bad idea.
The attendant opened the door and we saw inside for the first time. It was a dark place and not what we expected at all. It had a low ceiling painted black and the lights inside were dim. The music played softly in the corner, not like a bouncing bass-type style that we had experienced in the other clubs at street level within the city. We walked inside, him in his boxers and loafers, and me in just my little pink panties and high heels. We were both holding hands, tightly gripping each other, and filled with nerves and anticipation. I remember a sick feeling in my stomach, like the butterflies on your first day at school, and how that feeling somehow sobered me quickly so I could sense all that was going on. I think that is why, even to this day, I can recall every detail. Even as I write this my stomach is getting a mild case of those fluttering butterflies.
In the corner, where the music was emanating from, there were people dancing, mostly girls dancing with girls, and we stood watching them. Most were completely naked but others, like us, had on their undies, leaving us feeling a little bit more comfortable. Apart from the few on the dance-floor, and a few sitting watching them, the club seemed empty and we began to feel like gooseberries with neither of us wanting to dance. My husband then said, ‘Let’s grab a booth.’ Only then did I notice that along each side were curtains, big heavy velvet curtains, mostly closed. A few, however, were slightly open revealing a semi-circular shaped sofa with a circular knee-high table in the middle. My husband pulled me over to the first one. He dragged back the curtain but inside were two naked girls kissing and beside them was a mass of men, all ages, sizes and shapes, also naked, and jerking off as they watched the display.
My husband smiled and turned away but some of the men saw us, saw me, and came out of the booth. A nervous few minutes left us desperately looking for an empty booth as a growing number of naked men followed us. Finally we found one with the curtain open and it was empty. We shuffled inside and I sat down swiftly followed by a man who sat next to me before my husband could sit down. He was a large black man, completely naked and smiling at me. I looked at my husband who had his hand on the curtain to close it and I opened my eyes wide to beg him to come to me. He did but in doing so left the curtain open. He squeezed passed the naked big black man so he could sit on my left. He took hold of my left hand and held it tight but then another five or six men followed into the booth. They all sat opposite us staring at my breasts and touching themselves.
I was shaking with fear and wondered if they were expecting us to have sex or put on a show for them. We expected that none of them would speak English so we didn’t know what to do or to say. We didn’t know what was expected within a club like that and that’s why we have never returned to one but there in that booth I felt unable to escape. Back then, as we had just embarked on our swinging journey, neither of us were ready for all these men to be there looking at me nearly naked. Then the black man broke the ice. He leaned across me with his large hand and introduced himself to my husband. I felt a little more at ease when I heard his East London accent but then my ease waned when my husband had to let go of my hand to shake his. He introduced himself as Jerome but my husband didn’t give him a name in return and instead said, ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He then let go of my husband’s hand and I grabbed it again with my left hand squeezing it tight as if to say get us out of here. Jerome then pointed to one of the men opposite and introduced him as Terry. The man nodded in recognition but kept stroking his cock which was fully erect. My husband asked who the other men were but he shrugged and said, ‘I dunno.’ With that he smiled and said, ‘Is this your wife?’ My husband nodded and he then held his hand out for me to shake. I slipped my right hand into his and he shook it with a firm grip and repeated what my husband had said, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ but he didn’t let go.
He took my hand and held it against his bare thigh. There I was sitting between two men, holding their hands, whilst another five guys jerked off and stared at me. What happened, however, next took me by complete surprise but looking back I should’ve known it was coming. Jerome pulled my hand across further until it touched his hard cock. He then asked me had I ever touched a black cock before but I was too nervous to answer. I was tongue-tied. I could feel his cock on the back of my hand when my husband answered, ‘No she hasn’t, at least not to my knowledge,’ or words to that effect. His remark made me kinda giggle, perhaps nervously, but my husband always makes me laugh and it was the way he said it. Then when Jerome said, ‘Do you want to,’ I just said, ‘Ok’ and he let go of my hand.
That wasn’t what I wanted. I needed him to place my hand on him. Up until that point any men we had introduced to our marriage had taken control but he set my hand on his thigh making me take the initiative. I admit I was frightened. I don’t know what of but it wasn’t until my husband said, ‘Why don’t you hold it,’ that I let my hand wrap around it. It was quite thick but not as long as I imagined it would be but then I’ve learnt since that black cocks are not all big, despite the myth. In fact many white men are much larger and so it depends solely on the man rather than his race. In saying that, however, and as I state in my book, I have had far more sexual pleasure from small cocks than big ones but then I have also learnt that it’s all about the man rather than the cock. Jerome, whilst not long, was thick and having it in my hand made me very horny. I was aroused instantly and my inhibitions were soon banished when he leaned into me and took hold of my breast. I love being groped and I love to hold cock so I was enjoying the pleasure of both. So much so that my left hand relaxed its grip on my husband’s and he knew from that I was feeling a lot more at ease.
The black man then leaned in some more and started sucking my nipple. It was divine having his big dark purple lips wrapped around my dark purple nipples and I found my hand stroking his cock before I let go of my husband completely. I put my left hand on Jerome’s shaved head holding him against my bosom and forgetting briefly about the other men and even my husband who were all watching. He ate my breasts and I played with him for a while before he pulled his head away to look again at the tits he had been enjoying. ‘Terry,’ he said, ‘she has amazing tits.’ We all watched his big black hands massaging my breasts as he said to his friend, ‘You gotta feel these.’ With that Terry stood and walked over to me. He dropped to his knees at my feet and slid his small chubby hands up along the tops of my thighs. His hands that had been rubbing his cock were touching my legs and I have to admit the fact that this dirty man’s hands were on me made me even more excited and I felt my legs open slightly allowing him to come closer to me. His hands slid from the tops of my legs all the way slowly up my body until he took hold of both of my breasts.
I turned to my husband, still with my hand on the black cock, and there he was also wanking with his cock in his hand, just like the other men sat opposite. I noticed them then and I saw one spurt his cum out onto his leg before getting up to leave. Then I noticed something else. I felt the hard cock of the man between my legs touching me. It was rubbing against my inner thigh and leaking precum onto my leg. The black man’s cock was throbbing in my hand and I turned to look at him. I pushed my head towards his and we kissed. His hand held my face as we kissed and I felt his friend’s cock rubbing closer and closer to my wet panties. I didn’t want to have sex, not there, not with that man, but it seemed like it was about to happen.
When he too started sucking my nipples the black man’s tongue was in my mouth and Terry’s cock was rubbing against my pussy through my panties. I could feel it rubbing against my clit and I felt something build within me. Those butterflies from my stomach had escaped and were fluttering about inside me as if they were brushing against the inside of me skin trying to burst through it. The black cock began leaking and I felt the warm cum jump onto my body. As he breathed heavy into my mouth my lungs took a gasp of the air from inside his body filling me with him as his cum released onto me and my hand. My pussy was throbbing and reeling as the pressure of the hard cock pressing against it made it open and wanting a man inside me.
The black man pulled back and my entire body shook then his head dropped to take a nipple again in his mouth and that’s when I saw behind him about another eight or nine guys all standing at the entrance to the open booth watching as two different men, one black, one white, sucked on my nipples and that’s when it arrived. Like a freight train it burst through my body, bursting open my skin, and releasing those butterflies before sending my body crashing into orgasm. My husband was ready to cum onto his boxers and then the man whose cock had been so close to being inside me came too and I felt his warm cum ooze out onto me. At that point, surrounded by prying eyes, I lost control and I needed a dick in me so I pushed the guys off me with a force I didn’t know I had. I sat on my husband’s lap facing him and I eased his cock into me. He came instantly inside me and we rocked together for a bit before we held each other and kissed while the others watched.
We never went to a club again because we like to know what is likely to happen in advance but the thrill of not knowing is something that only certain people can deal with and it gave me an experience that will live vividly in my mind forever.
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