Our First Trip to a Swing Club – Playtime

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This is Part 4 of Andy & Michelle’s first trip to a swing club, please head on over to read Part 1Part 2 and Part 3 if you haven’t already.

Playtime – Michelle’s Point of View

We decided to stay. My rationale was that we had come all this way, we had paid the money, we should try it out. What would be the point in leaving? I wasn’t completely sure that I would enjoy being in the play space, but I had to give it a shot. We went upstairs, clothing was removed and left in the lockers in the unisex bathroom, and we ventured out into the space.

We’d had much wine with dinner, and by now, I was feeling a bit fuzzy. I adopted a “when-in-Rome” attitude at that point, and was just planning to go with whatever happened. As soon as we’d walked into the space a man asked to fondle my breasts while his wife stood and watched. I don’t recall being excited about it, but I recall giggling. It seemed to make him so happy, so how could I refuse? After a minute or so, he stopped, said ‘thank you’, and went back to his wife. The first floor was lit with a dim bluish light and most of the beds were draped with gauze so it was quite surreal. There were very few people in the first few rooms, so we continued on. We shortly discovered further on, where most of the attendees were.

The area was well-lit, but not harshly, and the energy reminded me of a good dungeon in full-tilt. The sounds alone were titillating; moaning, grunting, hushed whispers, a good “YES!” thrown into the mix occasionally. It was lovely. At one bed there was a group of people playing with a girl, using three Hitachi wands. I’ve never wanted to be in a group scene so much in my life.

Andy and I found a bed nearby and retired to enjoy each other. The sounds of the repeated orgasms from the fortunate woman being assaulted with the wands were potent. It seemed like we were both being driven to new heights by each orgasm someone else had. I was beginning to really enjoy myself and realized that I had just been wound a bit tight and probably could have had a better time earlier in the evening had I just relaxed.

I won’t bore you with the details of the rest of the evening, but it was another hour or so before we came up for air, and went downstairs for some coffee and a sweet midnight snack. There were a few others doing the same and we all had the same looks on our faces…satisfaction. After our snack we went back upstairs for Round Two, and by the time we left that early the following morning, Andy and I were both completely spent. We returned to the hotel in a daze, to sleep as long as we could before leaving for the airport.

Playtime – Andy’s Point of View

By now, I thought I was going to go slightly insane from sitting at the dinner table in a state of *FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CAN WE PLEASE FUCK NOW* arousal… she lifted her warm, wet mouth from mine and with a gleam in her eye, said, “Wanna go upstairs?”

With incredible self-restraint, I managed to keep from screaming, “FUCK YES!” at the top of my lungs.

I wasn’t quite nonchalant enough to pull off, “Well, I guess so, if YOU want to.” But I think I split the different somehow. It probably came out something along the lines of a fiercely whispered, “Oh yeah!”

She took my hand and led me up the staircase to the locker room area. With each step, my heart was pounding. I was still concerned – she’d seemed so uncomfortable earlier – but now she was literally pulling me up the stairs by my hand. What happens now?

We get to the locker room, and we kiss some more, then we undress and place our clothes in two of the little cubby holes near the entrance. I suddenly realize we’ve forgotten something, and say softly, “SHIT. We didn’t bring towels. Do you want me to go get us some?” That would mean getting dressed again – at least to some degree – and going back downstairs.

“What the heck”, she says. “We’re here… we might as well just go with it”. And with that, she again takes my hand, and leads me out of the locker room toward the play areas, unencumbered by so much as a stitch of clothing. It’s an odd feeling. Not wholly unpleasant, but very new and strange. We pass others, some in towels, some in lingerie or robes, some naked and horizontal in play pits… and my mind is racing. I’m not uncomfortable, I’m just unsettled. I don’t know what to do, or where to go. I’m so hot and bothered, I’d be happy just to drop down on the floor in the middle of the hall as long as I could get my mouth back on hers, feel her under my hands, press my naked body against hers, and push myself between her legs.

Then, the strangest, most interesting, and most thought-provoking thing of the night happens.

As we walk past the big-screen TV, we see a man and woman just ahead of us, talking in the hallway. M is slightly in front of me, we’re holding hands, and we’re both sort of looking for a fun place to go to have our way with each other. As we approach, the couple smiles and looks us up and down. When we pause near them, the gentleman steps up to M, smiles, holds his hands up near her breasts, and says politely, “May I?”

I’ve lived with her for 12 years now. I know – or *think* I know her – pretty damn well. This guy is six-inches away from her – well inside her “personal space” zone – and his hands are about two inches from her tits. I’m expecting her to immediately pull back, to try and put me in between herself and this guy, and for this to completely ruin the entire evening right then and there.

Within a quarter-of-second my muscles are contracting, and I’m starting to step around in front of her and bodily press this guy back, when a strange sound reaches my brain. It’s light. It’s happy. It’s… it’s… it’s my wife, and she’s giggling! Then she’s brushing her hair back over her shoulder and saying in a friendly and casual voice, “Sure.”

HUH?! Illogical. Does not compute. Re-calculating. Re-calculating. Re-calculating.

I have to catch myself in mid-stride, so as not to step between them. Instead, I move in close behind her, sidle up against her warm, naked back, and stand there in a minor state of shock as this strange man squeezes, fondles, and adores my wife’s luscious, bare, tits.

I simply cannot describe what goes on in my brain during the next five or ten seconds. Too many things going on at once in there. The resulting emotions are a jumble, and the end result is completely indescribable. I experience feelings of protectiveness, a bit of jealousy and insecurity, a flood of love, a little bit of wonder, a lot of confusion, and a whole lot of intense arousal.

Then, as quickly as it started, it’s over. She’s giggling again, and saying “It’s been a long time since anybody other than him did that”, as she indicates me with a motion of her head. I wonder what the look on my face was at that moment. He’s saying “thanks – they’re really beautiful.” Then he’s moved back over to his partner, and we’re walking forward again, deeper into the play area, as they walk past us, out toward the lockers.

My cock is hard enough to cut diamonds, but my brain isn’t sure what the hell just happened. I want to stop, spin her around, stick my tongue down her throat for a minute or five, then come back up for air and scream, WHO ARE YOU? I want to fuck the living daylights out of you, but what they hell have you done with my WIFE? You know… the girl who was pretty sure she didn’t even want to come UP HERE tonight?!

I’m not mad or upset. In fact, I know that in many ways, I LIKED it. And I’m really happy she seemed to find it either amusing or fun or something… and that ‘something’ wasn’t negative. But I didn’t know what to make of it. Hearing the tone of her voice and the easy way she said, “sure” with a bit of a giggle, is such a departure from my expectations of what she’d do in that situation, that it fractured my logic circuits, and left me a bit dazed. That’s what happens when you make assumptions, I suppose.

Wow.

To Be Concluded…

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