Wednesday 26th July 2017,
Jack Gary

That Time I Became A Swinger

This story takes place in a shitty, quaint town in Northern California. I just want to say that I can’t stand these little pretentious towns with their tiny cupcake bakeries and bed and breakfast mentalities. It makes me a little sick. Anyways, I was at this little hotel, a couple hours North of San Francisco.  One night I was sitting at the restaurant, which had developed a little bit of a reputation as a “romantic destination,” but I was there to eat a steak and go to bed.  However, as I was sitting in my booth, eating my steak and minding my own business, I had inadvertently started eavesdropping on the couple next to me. They were obviously at the restaurant on some kind of date. The girl was insanely gorgeous with blonde, curly hair – kind of like ringlets, but she had sort of a country bumpkin vibe. If she weren’t with the dude she was with, I would have definitely tried to tap that country ass.

That Time I Became A SwingerOut of all my sexcapades, this might be one that I slightly regret. I was almost done with the steak, still overhearing the conversation of the couple in the next booth, when I heard the blonde mention the name of my hometown. I immediately realized that she looked quite familiar. So I leaned over to ask her a few questions. Sure enough she grew up just a few blocks from me. What a coincidence.

The couple invited me to sit with them at their booth and have a drink. While I like to do most of my alcohol drinking alone, I decided to oblige them and have only one drink. My curiosity was killing me and the blonde was hot. At that point I didn’t care if she was there with a date. He happened to be her husband. They had been married for three years and she moved all the way out to this Podunk town with him to start a family. They started telling me all about their boring country life. My curiosity started to wane. I might have even dozed off a little, probably staring directly at the blonde’s tits. I had almost completely had it, but that’s when the couple dropped a bombshell on me.

Apparently, it was their three-year anniversary and they were out at the restaurant looking for another couple to hook up with. Yes, you guessed it; they were into the whole swingers lifestyle. My curiosity was back in full gear and so was my boner.  On their anniversary they wanted to go full wife swap. And that’s when I had the ingenious plan to tell them I was actually in town with my wife. They asked me where she was and I told them she wasn’t feeling well so she went to bed in our room. They asked if she was into the whole swapping partners thing and I told them that indeed she was. I was making this all up of course, because I wanted to sleep with the blonde. I mean, here was my chance and I wasn’t about to let some minor detail get in the way. The couple said great and we arranged to meet back at the hotel the next evening. Now I all I had to do is find a wife to swap.

I had less than 24 hours. That night I started my search. I needed to find a woman who was into casual sex, but that was also not afraid to get a little weird. She needed to be dumb as rocks and be into having a “no strings attached” sexual dalliance. There was a little nightclub at the hotel where some aging crooner was banging out some ballads, so I talked to the hostess. She was nice, but not the right wife material. So I headed out to the pool. I started talking to a moderately attractive woman who seemed into me. I told her that I needed to find a woman who can pretend to be my wife for one night, because I wanted to hook-up with this guy’s wife. She gave me a leering glance and threw her drink in my face. Defeated, I decided to head back to my room. That’s when I met “the one.”

She was tall, not too skinny, dumb and perfect wife material. We started talking and apparently she was a brand ambassador for one of the local wineries. Our convo was going smoothly and we were hitting it off. I couldn’t spill the beans just yet and tell her my master plan. I had to be suave about it. I thought: perhaps if I sleep with her first, she’ll be more open to my proposal. I also thought: if we have sex first we’ll obviously look more like a couple. So I told her that I had to go to bed and if she wanted she could come with me. We went back to the room and almost immediately started tearing off each other’s clothes. I guess she was really into me. When we were lying there in the afterglow, I dropped the bomb on her. She looked at me, like I was some sort of freak, but she liked the plan. She said something about being young and then something about sex and rock n’ roll. I didn’t get it, but all I cared about was that I had a “wife” for the next night – for a sex adventure I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

The next morning I woke up with my new “wife.” She blew me and I blew my wad on her face and then we discuss our plan. It was the start to a wonderful “marriage.” It would look suspicious if we didn’t have rings, so I pulled off a few hooks from the curtain. They looked almost passable as wedding rings. That night we met the couple at the restaurant. We all get to talking. My new “wife” was getting along perfectly with the blonde’s husband. I, of course, was getting along with the blonde. After a big meal we all decided that it was time to head up to one of our rooms. We chose theirs, because they had two, full sized beds.

We enter the room and split off with our respective partners. My plan was working. I am either the devil or a genius for pulling this off. The blonde and I started making out first, then she started giving me oral sex (she was good at it), and then we started having sex. She was gentle, like someone who had been married for years. I could hear my “wife” getting it on in the next bed. All was good. After an hour or so everything calmed down a bit. We were all sitting upright, naked against the headboards, in a general state of post coital bliss. That’s when the plan backfired.

Somehow, in the midst of things, I forgot to tell my new “wife” what my real name is. All of sudden she started calling me John. It was bad, really bad. That’s when the swingers caught on. I am never one to fold under heavy questioning, but my new “wife” didn’t have anything to lose. She just let it all out. It was over. Our plan was foiled. Luckily, all I got was an ear full from the blonde and a lot of obscenities and threats from the husband. In the end, what I did wasn’t all that ethical, but boy was it fun.

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