Mary and I had lived in our neighbourhood for about a year when we first became aware of the swingers’ group. It was our neighbour Miles who first mentioned it, when he and I were just talking in the street. He wasn’t actively trying to recruit us or anything; he just mentioned that he knew of it. He later told me he’d done it to judge my reaction. When I wasn’t outraged or disgusted, he decided to take it a little further if the opportunity arose.
Now, compared with many, Mary and I had had an adventurous sex life. We had certainly indulged in a few threesomes and foursomes, although we didn’t do it very often. Most of our sex life was quite conventional, really. But every so often we enjoyed raising two fingers to convention and doing something that some people would think pretty outrageous. We always did these things together, and enjoyed watching each other “in action”, as Mary put it. So when Miles mentioned the swingers’ group we talked about it and wondered if we might enjoy it. Fantasies about it certainly fed our sex life for the next couple of weeks!
But fantasy is never quite enough. There came a point where we decided to find out more, and Mary deputed me to ask Miles about it. I had to be careful, because I didn’t yet know if he and his wife were members of this group, or had merely heard about it. In fact, it was Miles who brought up the subject, when we met in the high street.
“We can’t go on meeting like this, Miles.” He just laughed.
“Still settling in okay?” He asked. “Finding plenty to do?”
“Well, it’s a nice neighbourhood, but we haven’t met a lot of local people yet, considering how long we’ve been here. But I gather there are a few groups who meet regularly for various activities.”
“That’s true. What sort of thing you have in mind? I don’t think I see you as the stamp collecting type, somehow.”
“No indeed. Mary and I tend to like doing things together, and with other couples. We were imagining something a little more adventurous.”
“How adventurous you want to get? I did mention the swingers’ group, but maybe that’s not your thing.”
“Seriously? I often wonder how these things recruit members. I mean, how would one find out more about something like that?”
He gave a mock bow. “You are talking to the fount of all knowledge about this neighbourhood. Anything you want to know, I can tell you.”
The conversation finished up with an invitation to meet Miles and his wife Julie for lunch at their place the following Sunday. Their house was within walking distance, so we’d be able to have a drink. He told me they had a hot tub in the back garden, and if we wanted he could set it up for a warm bath before lunch.
“Just one thing,” he said. “If you want to wear a swimming costume, by all means bring one, but Julie and I normally don’t bother.”
“Doesn’t that shock the neighbours?”
“If we wanted to shock the neighbours there’s far more we could do. But nobody can see what goes on in our backyard. You’ll see what I mean when you visit.”
* * *
Miles and Julie lived in a large house set a fair way back from the road on the outskirts of our village. They clearly had some money: there was a long drive up to the house, with parking space for several cars, and it looked as if there was a walled garden at the back. Julie met us at the door. Like the rest of us, she was in her mid-thirties. She also had a spectacular figure, and a face that was, if not classically beautiful, very attractive. She had short reddish blonde hair and big blue eyes, and was wearing a simple summer dress with a floral print, which buttoned down the front. She accepted our proffered bottle of wine politely, but I couldn’t help wondering if our supermarket choice was up to their standards.
“Come in, come in. Miles is at the back, and ready to serve drinks.”
We walked through the house, which was floored with expensive tiles — cool in the summer heat. The hallway ran the complete width of the house front to back, and there were glass doors at the end of it. Julie led us through these, out onto a paved area where Miles was standing at a table with drinks, stripped to the waist and wearing swimming shorts.
“Hi. Gin and tonic okay? I’m making some for us, but there are lots of other things.”
Julie excused herself to go to the kitchen. We told Miles that gin and tonic sounded fine. He waved us towards a couple of benches which were placed facing each other. We sat at one, and took in the magnificence of their back garden. Close to the house was a wide paved area, but beyond that was a network of paths, with flowerbeds between. There were also small trees dotted around, as well as more benches. The surroundings were really pretty luxurious, especially as the entire garden was surrounded by a brick wall about 6 feet high. Beyond that, even the nearest neighbours could not be seen, and I reckoned that to see in over the wall you would need to climb a tree in the woods behind and get out binoculars. Clearly, the place was as private as Miles had suggested. At the other end of the paved area from us I could see the hot tub. I had expected a portable plastic tub, but this was more like a small swimming pool. It was rectangular, built in brick and concrete, with steps up to the edge. I could hear the water bubbling. There was a canopy over it to shade the occupants from the sun.
Julie came back out again, having removed her dress to reveal a very small white bikini. Mary glanced at me and winked. She could tell what I was thinking, but she didn’t mind. If it came to that, Miles was pretty good looking himself. Like his wife, he didn’t have filmstar good looks, but he certainly looked pleasant, and his blue eyes sparkled mischievously. I could tell at once that he was attracted to Mary, and judging by the way she looked at him she didn’t mind in the least. Still, we were supposed to be finding information today, not indulging in a foursome.
Miles and Julie sat on the bench opposite us, and we chatted while we downed our drinks. Miles immediately refilled them, which made me wonder if we would even be capable of a foursome before long. There was the wine still to come!
“Would you like to try the hot tub?” said Miles. “It’s just the right sort of day for it.”
Mary and I looked at each other, and she nodded. Miles and Julie led the way, and at the foot of the steps unselfconsciously stripped off their costumes. Julie naked looked even more spectacular than Julie clothed, I have to say. She had large nipples, I noticed, and a proper amount of pubic hair — I much prefer this natural look to a Brazilian or total shave. Mary and I looked at each other again, shrugged, and followed suit. Birthday suit, in this case. We stepped up to the edge of the pool, and found there were steps down again under the water inside. I saw Miles observing Mary keenly as she stepped down. Well, who could blame him? I certainly didn’t. She was the sexiest — and sexiest-looking — woman. Her voluptuous figure was complemented by a pretty, heart-shaped face, and a permanently happy demeanour. She looked exactly what she was: a beautiful, sexy woman who was ready for adventures if they presented themselves. Mary and I sat along one side of the pool, and Miles and Julie took the two ends.
“You were asking about our local swingers’ group,” said Miles. “I think I’ll let Julie tell you about that. The fact is, the group is really run by the women.”
“That’s right,” said Julie. “It’s very easy for women to feel threatened when there are a lot of sexed-up men around. To counteract that we have a few ground rules. Rule one is that the group is there for recreational sex only. We don’t have sex with our usual partners. The entire point of this is to do something quite different. It is expected that everyone will have fun, and do something sexual, but not something they could just as well do at home. Generally, we expect that people will do something more than just watch. Watching can be fun, of course, but you can do that at home, too, with the modern Internet. Rule two is that everything — absolutely everything — must be consensual. If you want to do something, you ask, or you are invited. The point is, groups like this are not illegal, but they would be if they allowed any kind of force or coercion.”
“Doesn’t that make it very formal?” I asked. “I mean, if you have to keep second-guessing what people want it might take a lot of the fun out of it.”
“It might in theory. In practice, there is no problem, even if it seems a bit artificial at first. People soon get used to asking if they’re in any doubt. After all, how hard is it to ask ‘Is it OK if I join in?’ or maybe ‘Is it OK if I touch your breasts?’, or even ‘Would you like to have sex with me?’ Rule three is simple and inviolable: safe sex at all times. We use condoms. The only exception is when a man is going to ejaculate outside his partner’s body — if it’s a hand job, basically. Coming unprotected on someone is OK, if they agree, but not in someone!”
This was all sensible stuff. We had heard of the American swingers’ group who didn’t use safe sex and all got AIDS.
“And is that it?” asked Mary.
“That’s it. It’s pretty common sense, really. We meet here once a month, about 20 of us, and we announce meetings by email. It’s always on a Saturday, at about 6pm, and usually around the beginning of the month. You can bring alcohol if you want, and even food; a lot of people do. We don’t provide refreshments, except water. Just don’t get drunk and disorderly, and if you want a good time don’t get drunk and incapable! By the way, we generally wear dressing gowns, with nothing underneath. That makes for convenience. But if you enjoy stripping, or being stripped by someone, wear whatever you feel like.”
“So is next Saturday the next meeting?” said Mary.
“That’s right. Have a think about it. By all means take your time if you want to discuss it. There’s no pressure. It isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but you’d be welcome if you want to come. Pun intended. If it’s warm, we will leave the side gate open, and you can just come round to the back.”