tagNovels and NovellasConfessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 05

Confessions of a Rust Belt Swinger 05

byQuazarMachismo©

Note: This is a stand-alone story that is part of our on-going swinging adventures. I hope you find at least part of these stories humorous.

Chapter 5: Swinging with the Lord

I met a couple one time on a swingers website called swinghookup or something like that. It was a little website that was one of the first "swinger-related" sites I stumbled across on the internet in the 90s. Back then people were still exploring this whole new internet thing. Websites were still kinda new and unique. The swinghookup site had links to swinger related subjects, but the main reason that I surfed the site was for its chat board. This was my first real experience chatting online with other people who shared this crazy interest with Anne and me. You know, of having sex with someone that was not your spouse, yet your spouse knew about it. And your wife or husband was having sex right beside you. In the same bed. But not with you. Crazy.

For some reason it was usually women that would be chatting on the site. Of course, this being the internet, it could have been a guy simply pretending to be a girl, but I never knew if that was going on. So, for whatever reason, I began chatting with one woman in particular. I got the feeling that she (him? it?) really was a woman. Well, as good a feeling as you could get typing on a computer with some random unknown person.

Usually, this woman, Marcy, would get online and begin to act very sexy. She would spend lots of time typing about all the men that she wanted to screw. To fuck. Hard. She typed merrily away about all the black guys that she wished would bend her over and take her from behind.

It was all very sensuous and erotic.

Well, to me it was. I mean, not like, "I gotta rip off my pants and whack off to this incredibly hot and erotic chat!" But still, it was kinda hot.

So, anyway, I began chatting with her in the regular chat room but soon we moved to a private chat room. To be private. For, um, chatting. We chatted about all sorts of things. You know, not just sexual. But a lot sexual.

People seem to be a lot freer talking about sex when they're typing and not talking. In fact, they type a LOT about sex. Anyway, we chatted about our lives a bit, like what we did for a living and where we lived. That kind of shit.

During one of our many chats, I found out that she didn't live too far away from us. Only about an hour. Her fiancé, Steve, joined in on some of these conversations as well. So did Anne. We all seemed to get along pretty well. Online. One thing that definitely stuck out was that, as opposed to others that we had spent internet time with, they seemed to be rather well educated.

I remember one conversation I had with Steve about getting children to read and Harry Potter. At the time, some school district in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere was trying to ban the first Harry Potter book from the school library. It was so long ago that there may only have been only one Harry Potter book.

Why the fuck am I writing about Harry Fucking Potter in the middle of a book about swinging and fucking?

Stay with me here.

Anyway, I was chatting with the guy, Steve, about how ridiculous the whole situation was with trying to ban this book. I was going on about how great it was that these books were getting kids to read, which was far more important than an irrational fear that the kids would somehow be drawn into a life of witchcraft and sorcery. Oooooo, the devil!!!! Scary!!!!!! Morons.

Steve was agreeing with me, and we were getting pretty deep into religious issues and the hypocrisy of the far right. It was all very heavy stuff. After a while, I commented that he seemed to know a lot about religion. He told me that his college degree was in religious studies.

Wow!!

I mean, some of the people that we'd met online had never even driven past a college, let alone actually gone to one. To, you know, study. This guy was unique! This guy was different! This guy was educated!!

Although. . . it was, um, a little odd. Here he was a theology major at a university. You know, you really don't run into theology majors all that often. Especially on swinger chat boards. . .

Still, it was pretty cool to be able to chat with people that could actually hold a good conversation. So, Steve and I continued to chat. Marcy and I continued to chat. Anne and I continued to fuck, but, you know, that's a different story.

After a few weeks of getting to know them a bit better, Steve and Marcy decided that they were going to visit a swinger's club in town near us. Now, Anne and I had not yet ventured out to a club at this point. We had talked about it, but hadn't built up the nerve to go. Steve and Marcy really wanted us to go with them, but seeing as how we were a) chickenshit; and b) had never met them in real life, we politely declined the offer to join them on their club adventure. But, they planned to spend two days in the city, so we told them that we would meet them for dinner on the night that they weren't planning to go clubbing.

We met them at a local restaurant. An Irish pub. I really don't know why. I mean, why Irish?

Well, we were banned from the Mexican restaurant next door over the whole, uh, margarita puking fiasco, so I guess that Irish was the next best thing.

So, over corned-beef and cabbage, we got together with Steve and Marcy.

I remember when we met.

He was bald.

She had long brown hair. All the way down to her very nice ass.

He was bald.

She was very flirtatious and sexually aggressive. Just like she was in the online chat rooms.

He was, um, bald.

We talked. We ate Shepherd's pie or potatoes or something. Drank Guinness. As opposed to our Mexican adventure, we were able to carry on a conversation with Steve and Marcy. Again, it helped that we could talk about pretty much anything. However, there was also the somewhat disconcerting fact that Marcy was looking at Anne and me like a tiger looks at a buffalo down by the watering hole. You know, the slow, fat juicy one. Disconcerting. But at the same time somewhat sexy as well.

Anyway, we ended up going back over to their hotel room to chat some more, and we played some weird swinger game with some cards.

And we all got naked and FUCKED, right?

Well, um, no.

But I do remember hugging Marcy very closely and having her run her hands all over my ass and my dick.

Well, on top of my pants.

Anne and bald guy?

Yeah. Nothing.

He just wasn't doing it for Anne.

So we left.

At home we talked about how nice and interesting they seemed. Anne really wanted to like him. Well, she liked him. She just didn't want to ride his cock to a screaming orgasm.

Nothing.

Nada.

Marcy was ready to eat both of us alive and Anne just didn't have that spark with bald guy. She felt bad. I felt bad.

And then the day after they went clubbing, they called us to meet for lunch.

Okay.

Seemed alright.

We met at a local sports bar/rib place. You know, the type of place with t.v.'s all over the walls. We chatted a bit. But I could tell.

Like you can tell with a ripe melon.

It just wasn't gonna happen.

Anne had said no.

So that was it.

But, how do we extricate ourselves from this, um, sticky wicket? They just didn't want to leave. I talked about how I had to get hope to do some, uh, yard work, or something. That I had an early meeting. An old friend was coming from out of town.

Anything.

But they held on. Like a Lamprey eel sinking its razor sharp teeth into a nice fleshy tuna. We just couldn't shake 'em.

We left the restaurant. Said we had to get home. To, um, do some home stuff.

Guess what?

They came with!

No seriously.

They couldn't get the fucking hint that it wasn't gonna happen.

But, being new to the whole scene, Anne and I were too scared to say, "Go away. Sorry. Not interested."

I know, I know, right about now you're saying, "What about your rule one? You know, about never, ever, ever inviting anyone to your home?" Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm stupid. Well, I was. Stupid. I broke the first rule of swinging.

Nope, instead of following the golden rule, we led them to our house. Gave them some wine, cheese and crackers.

And that's when it started to get weird.

They started talking about their kids. Well, Marcy started talking about her kid. See, it seems that she was married. Before. Once.

Not to Steve.

Hey, that's fine. It happens. No biggie, right?

Anyway, it seems that Marcy's kid had Tourette's syndrome. And about seven other weird health issues.

Tourette's? Really?

Yep. The full swearing, tic, head-bobbing thing. The poor kid had learning disabilities, something wrong with his kidneys, an extra arm or something. Who the fuck knows what else.

Ooooo-kay. That's um fine, but uh, why are you telling, uh, us? We've known you for like 10 minutes in real life. And yet she's pouring out the kid's medical history to us like I'm Bones McCoy and Anne is Dr. Spock.

No, not the Vulcan.

The other one.

You know. The baby doctor.

Whatever.

So, she's giving us stats. Blood types, chromosome records, CAT scans.

Wow. Ok. Who wants more wine? Anyone? Me? Yes thanks! I'll take a trough. A trough full of wine for me. And one for my wife!

At that point, you know, after the ER episode we just sat through, they start talking about how the two of them met.

It seems that at one point, Marcy was having some marital trouble. I can't really blame her. Or her former husband. For as messed up as this poor kid sounded, I imagine that it would have been tough on any relationship.

So, anyway, like I said, Marcy was having marriage trouble. Lots of fighting and stuff. So, she decided to go to talk to someone about it.

Good idea. Right? Sure.

And that's where Steve comes in.

See, it turns out that Steve was the person that Marcy went to talk to about her marriage problems.

Why?

Because he was her minister.

Oh, that's nice. I mean, in times of stress sometimes people turn to their reli-

WHAT THE FUCK?????

Her minister?

WHAT THE FUCK?????

The dude that she's swinging with used to talk to her about God, relationships and the sanctity of marriage?

Oh, I'm sorry, I meant to say,

WHAT THE FUCK??????

Of course, now it makes a bit of sense. I mean, he's well educated. He was a theology major. He--

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!

So, as I sat there, in my family room with my trough of wine, I thought about whether I understood the situation correct. Now, she's going to see him for her marital problems. The two of them start talking a lot. And guess what? Nature takes over. The two of them get it on. Get together. I don't know, um, fuck? Who the hell knows? What I do know is that ultimately Marcy divorces her husband and the two of them get together.

Oh, and Steve's church kicks the two of them out. He's defrocked. Or de-Ministered. Or fired. Or, whatever the fuck you want to call it. He's sent packing. I'm not sure, but I think that Marcy was told not to, um, return to the holy halls of that particular church as well.

So. You have a former man of the cloth and a recent divorcee with a child who has serious mental and physical problems.

What else would the two of them do other than get together and start fucking other people?

Hey, we have the holy roller swinging couple here. I guess it's either swinging or going directly to HELL. I mean, no passing go, no pleading for mercy at the pearly gates, just straight to the burning place!!!!

And we were thinking of getting it on with them? AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Um, nope.

Wow. I think I'm gonna need a spiritual shower after I take the regular one! Is there a Head & Shoulders for that? You know, for your spirit head?

I'm speechless.

I look at Anne.

She's speechless.

The cat?

Speechless.

Where do you go from there? I mean really? Where?

Other than out of there. Way the hell out of there. Like, Mars, for example.

But we lived there.

Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?

We live there.

And these two psychos now know where we live.

DAMN YOU FIRST RULE!!! DAMN YOU!!!!

Oh boy.

So then we got naked and fucked.

Yeah, I don't fucking think so.

Not with Father Weirdo and Mrs. Whacky-pants.

Not now. Not ever.

Eventually, when they saw that nothing was going to happen, even though they were at our house, they left.

As soon as they pulled out of the driveway I started sprinkling some holy water on the floors. The chairs. Anywhere that they were in my house. Hanging garlic. Whatever the fuck I could think of. I did NOT want these two coming back our way.

Anne and I simply glanced at each other as we watched their car get smaller in the horizon. We knew. We both knew. The next time that someone said to us about swinging, "I've got a story you're not gonna believe. . . "

"Yeah? Well, you know what? I bet I've got a story that can fucking beat it."

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