We don’t need their kind.
This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the author’s authorization is strictly prohibited.
***
“We have new neighbors,” I informed Ginna, my wife.
She barely raised her eyes from her laptop, checking her work email.
“I saw them yesterday when the first truckload of furniture arrived,” she replied. “He, Roger, has a roving eye.”
‘Great,’ I thought. “All we need in the neighborhood is another one of those.”
Ginna laughed as she continued her work.
“Did you see her?” she asked.
“Who?”
“His wife, Ian,” she finally looked up, only to give me a castigating look. “Oh, you have. I can see it in your face.”
“And your point being?” I asked, feigning indignation.
“She has seen you, apparently,” Ginna replied.
“When?”
“You were bent over getting out the groceries… yesterday. Asley… was looking out her window. I thought her tongue would get stuck on the window pane.”
“That’s funny,” I tried not to laugh.
“Not for her. Roger, that’s his name, by the way. He caught her, and they had a row.”
“Seriously! You saw that?”
“It was amusing,” Ginna snickered. “Sorry, I forgot to share. My mother called, and I got distracted.”
“So how did you find out about his… wandering eye, as you put it.”
Ginna shut the laptop off and got up to get coffee.
“I’ll get it,” I replied as I poured a mug. “You said, wandering eye. Go on.”
“Oh yes,” she smiled conspiratorially. “He was conveniently at the garage as I came out and tried to chat me up.”
“This I have to hear,” I retorted, passing her the cup.
“Well, Roger did not waste much time. He told me how …get this… ‘cute’ I am.”
Ginna did finger quotes at cute.
“Oh no!” I replied, knowing how Ginna hates being called that.
This needs some explaining… briefly. See, my lovely and gracious partner in life used to be a tomboy in high school. She was into sports of all sorts. Her lithe figure and small breasts helped her be a gymnast, a runner, and a field hockey player. And while being diminutive in the chest department helps in sports, it does little for the ego of teen girls. Couple that with her girl-next-door looks, and Ginna was constantly described as cute by her family to everyone else. Something she grew to detest.
Eventually, she went to college on an academic scholarship and tried placing the “cute girl” tag behind her. By the time I met her in senior year, she had a stylish haircut that made her auburn hair pop, as well as her beautiful features. And after we graduated, got married, and joined the workforce, she chose to have some work done to change what she did not like in her looks.
That included a boob job. Not too out of hand, mind you. The “girls” looked fine. Not too big or fake. The doctor is an artist, I tell you. I have to remind myself they are augmented. And her large nipples make her… OK, where were we? Oh yes… Roger called her cute. Sorry, I went too far.
“It’s a shame,” Ginna continued. “They are an attractive couple. A terrific addition to the neighborhood. Physically that is.”
“But you don’t like them,” I stated with a slight smile.
“I know you like blonds and all,” she feigned irritation with me.
I had asked her a few months ago if she would ever go blond. And got the “I want a divorce” look.
“I don’t think Ashley is a true blond,” I tried to save myself.
“How would you know?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s say the color is slightly out of the box. It looks like my cousin’s dye job. Fake.”
“You have a point,” Ginna giggled. “Anyway. They both make me weary. And not because of her fake hair color. Call it a hunch.”
“So, you want me to cancel having dinner with them tomorrow?”
Ginna raised an eyebrow.
“Roger invited us,” I filled her in.
“Did he now?” she asked with a slight smirk.
“So, are we on?” I asked.
“OK,” she replied. “Let’s see what we are dealing with. After all, they will be living across the street from us.”
***
The next day after dinner at Roger and Ashley’s house, the wife and I had a discussion.
“So,” I asked. “How did it go for you?” I asked.
“Well, he put his hand on my ass and asked, ‘how about it?’ I was right. He is a cheater. And for your information, I told him to move it or lose it.”
“You are such a chaste wife,” I smiled, trying not to laugh.
“I’m going to gag,” she replied, mixing vodka and orange juice at our wet bar.
“When did this all take place?”
“When you and Ashley were schmoozing in the kitchen getting the salad ready,” she replied. “Too busy to defend your wife’s honor, I bet.”
“I was too busy, as you put it, defending your husband’s honor.”
“Excuse me!”
“Well, while you were fending off Roger the molester’s paws, I was doing the same with his not-so-chaste bride.”
“No way!” Ginna replied, trying not to laugh. “I knew it. They ARE cheaters.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Ashley told me she wanted us to meet for some extramarital fun. But not to tell you or her husband. That it would be ‘our secret’ as she put it.”
“I bet I know where she wants you to put it,” Ginna said. “Interesting she said that… about keeping things on the down-low. Roger said the same to me.”
“Well, they are a match made in heaven,” I responded.
“Would you believe they are regular churchgoers?”
“I wonder if they go to confession a lot.”
“Forgive me, father, for I placed my hand on my neighbor’s ass,” Ginna said, shaking her head. “Such hypocrite he is… and her.”
We stood staring at each other, waiting for each other to say it. But I think we both knew the verdict of the evening. We just wanted the other to confirm it first.
“They look good and all that,” I said, letting her contribute to my assessment. “On the outside.”
“That they do,” she replied, clearly disappointed.
“But…”
“They are not our kind, my love,” she said. “The club would never accept people like them. And if we recommended them, they would toss us out on our ass.”
I nodded in agreement.
“I agree,” I replied. “They are so typical. They act like pillars of the community yet will cheat on each other at the drop of a hat.”
“Ian, We don’t need their kind.”
Later that day, we went to the area’s exclusive club we belong to. Denis, the club president, approached us as we had drinks and socialized with the members. He and his wife, Belinda, were good friends of ours.
“So, how did the new recruitment go?” Belinda inquired.
“It was a bust,” Ginna replied.
“They were not interested?” Denis inquired.
“We never asked them,” I responded. “They just were not up to the standards of the club.”
“How so?”
“Cheaters,” I said.
Denis shook his head in disgust. His wife joined him.
“There is a lot of that going around. People these days have no decency, honesty, or trust in their spouses,” she said.
“Exactly,” Ginna added. “They were so willing to betray their spouse. I am so glad we found a club that promotes honesty, openness, and respect for spouses. A place where no one would place other peoples’ marriage at risk.”
“We are glad to have you, Ginna,” Denis said. “The club appreciates your work in weeding these undesirables out. Now all the members know who and what they are.”
“And avoid them,” Ginna added.
We all nodded in agreement. We had a map in the club office with red marks on houses with people like Ashley and Roger. People to stay away from. After all, we have standards.
There was music playing, and couples were dancing. When the tune changed, the club Belinda leaned close.
“You owe me a dance.”
I looked at Ginna, but she was already moving to dance with Denis. So much for that, I thought and politely followed the man’s wife to the dance floor. With business taken care of, it was time to relax, have some fun and let our hair down. Life’s problems could wait until tomorrow or Monday.
“You and I have not played for a while,” she said, leaning to whisper in my ear. “My husband loves dancing with Ginna as well. I’m glad you two are available this evening.”
I nodded as we began dancing.
All was well in our world. We were in a club of like-minded people who valued the sanctity of their marriage and family. No one betrayed their spouse or had to lie to them, unlike my phony new neighbors.
“I wonder what those people you rejected think of us?” Belinda thought out loud.
“Oh, the usual,” I replied. “Typical conventionals. They look down their noses at us.”
“While their divorce rate is through the roof and their kids grow up in broken homes. Few of them are truly, as they make believe they are,” Belinda added. “I am so glad we are exclusive and keep their drama out of our lives. They will never understand us or our ways.”
“Ginna and I are like you two,” I responded. “Realistic about human nature, yet we don’t want our families broken by betrayal and lies. Everything we do is in the open. No cheating and no lies.”
“Exactly. It is why Dennis and I started the club – to give us all a haven from the liars and deceitful out there.”
“And we joined this club by our own choice,” I added. “Neither of us had to manipulate the other into it. We talked about it, then gave each other time to decide if a place like this club was for us.”
“I am so glad you did,” she said, gazing at our spouses dancing closely. “I see our spouses are getting along. Shall we join them?”
I nodded as Belinda came close to give me a hug and a kiss. I was partially rigid when our bodies touched.
“Ian, You are mine for the first rotation,” she said, looking at her tablet. “Then, after a break, you are on your own. Is that OK?”
It was definitely OK by me. We were in a vetted safe environment where a man knew his wife was safe playing with others. “Playing.” What a word to describe what we did at the club!
The club was for people of similar interests. In the same way, some play tennis, golf, or cards with others, letting off some steam. Then return home with their spouse resuming their everyday lives relaxed and invigorated. Our interest was something most married people develop after a few years of marriage — wondering what is on the other side of the fence.
We also are all very sexual people. To us, sex is not only for procreation. It is a way of life. And we are honest enough to admit to each other that we have an attraction for others without cheating or betraying each other with marriage-damaging affairs. Everything we do is above board.
We are genuine swingers. The married kind that only plays with other people like us – other married people. People who have skin in the game. Namely our family. And people who respect the family and marriage of others. People who do not covet each other’s spouse as a replacement for theirs. That is what conventionals do. Right after, they convince themselves that sex for sex’s sake is what “those people” do. Ohno! Not them. They wrap their infidelity in romance (barf), finding a new soulmate (double barf), lying to their spouses, or betraying their trust. We are not those kinds of people.
We accept that life’s drudgery makes sex between two spouses mundane and repetitive over time. When going to bed with one’s spouse, one brings life’s trouble with them: the kids, the work, the bills, and past arguments. And while we love each other and still make love, we crave sex that is relaxing and removed from all of life’s issues. To us, sex is just that. Not a tool to manipulate your spouse. Just a fun pastime we enjoy with a variety of others.
I get it. Some religious types see what we do as a sin or immoral. But they forget that God made us with sexuality and a sex drive. If we were not intended to act on it, why give it to us? Why not make us like animals who go in heat once a month or whenever to procreate? Instead, the big Boss up above made us horny all the time.
Was the Boss a sadist or illogical? Only a sick motherfucker would give us sexuality and hold it against us if we acted on it. No. The Boss is not a mental case. He gave us this gift that requires no money to indulge in or status. Those idiocies and “morality rules” were created by humans to manipulate and control others. We… our kind, don’t want to play that game.
At the club, we put all that behind us and have sex with others for the night. No one is there to lie, cheat, betray, or bring the drama of conventional thinkers into the atmosphere. It works for us, and we don’t care what non-swingers think of our kind. How we conduct our marriages is our business, not society’s. We weed those judgmental types out and all the trouble they bring with their thinking. They can have their life while we have ours.
While we are voyeuristic and exhibitionists at the club, no one is forced to play in a group. In fact, no one forces anything on others. If there is someone you don’t want to play with, you have the right to say no at any time. But the club is good at clearing out problems of that sort by having the potential members meet with all the members before induction.
Existing members can reject a couple by showing cause to the other members. Ginna and I are one of the two recruiter couples and are proud that we have yet to have a potential couple we brought in rejected. Once they are voted in, they have the same privileges and rights as the rest of us. And if they chose to exit during the process, we gladly let them go on their way. But since we have all approved of each other, there is rarely any conflict or strife.
You may wonder how Ginna and I spot potential members. Well, we do not ask or lead them through it. We socialize with attractive couples and wait for them to bring it up. That’s right. We wait for them to ask us to swap. Even then, we are reserved until we know they have the same attitude about marriage. We make sure they place their marriage above anything else and see extramarital sex as a side thing only. We sometimes “road-test” them to see their reaction after. It works for us.
Oh. One more thing. Unless a couple chooses to swap with another couple or play in the public room, we rarely crowd our spouses. We are there to relax, not be hounded by our spouse, to see how we react to others or what we do with them. I have never had sex with my wife at the club. I do that at home. The club is to let our hair down, play with others, and have fun. Ginna and I touch base during the “halftime” portion of the evening, then let each other have fun with whomever we have chosen to be with next.
We have no single people in our club. Everyone is married, and both spouses are members. And… members seeking divorce are automatically expelled. Also, no spouse attends the club alone. They either come together or not at all.
This is our world. Not the bullshit you read about swingers in LW by the BTB crowd. The stupid shit they write about swingers makes us laugh. Especially their use of the word cuck at the drop of a hat. So childish.
Sadly, some people call themselves swingers in other open relationships (cuckolds/hotwives or pure open marriages.) Some single people call themselves swingers to attend single-night at some swinger bars. The owners of those places are not interested in the egalitarian notions of our club or in protecting marriages. They merely want the bodies to show up and pay at the door. This is why people like us do not go to swinger bars.
Well, that’s it.
So if you are a swinger, power to you.
If you are not, trust me, we will find out and keep you out of our business. You live your life, and we live ours.
********
This was a public service announcement.
Not an invitation for LW regulars to unload their vitriol.
So no scoring. And no annon posts. Only the regulars get to comment, and their comments will be moderated. Become abusive or judgmental, and your comment will go bye-bye – no First Amendment rights in LIT boys and girls. The writer can delete your post. Also, post any threatening remarks, and you will be reported.
One more thing. This is a free piece for you to read. I didn’t bother deep editing it.