Swingsgtock '03

My wife and I did attend Swingstock in 2003. Everything else here, including names and characters, is fictional.

*

We arrived as early as possible, which was Thursday afternoon. And we'd leave as late as possible on Sunday. And in between we'd have as much sex as possible—with each other and any friends we might meet for the first time or those we've known for a while.

One of the things we like about Swingstock is that clothing is optional; we chose the option to wear none. We set our tent and campsite quickly and efficiently. We camp out a lot and had it down to a routine.

We have a big tent. It has two large rooms and it's tall enough for me, at six-one, to stand straight up except at the edges. One room is for sleep and sex. We have a queen-sized inflatable mattress, connected sleeping bags and good pillows. All the comforts of home.

The other room has a smaller foam mattress, but the main attraction is a light but sturdy padded bench five feet by three feet and height adjusted for our convenience.

As soon as Kim and I had the tent up, the fire pit and portable picnic table set up and wood handy we shucked our clothes and she relaxed in one of the lawn chairs. She usually gets the recliner. I had one last task to perform. I got out the clothesline and stretched it tight between two trees behind the tent. Then I relaxed as well.

We enjoyed watching the other couples (and a few multiples) setting up their campsites. By the time the evening had achieved dominance over daylight there were about a dozen tents in the area. There was more space than two football fields so there was plenty of room for more. Campers would be arriving all day Friday. Before dinner we took a stroll. I'd driven the truck back to the lot and walked back to the campsite when we arrived. Kim wanted to wander around and memorize the route plus the rest of the area. It had been a year and the configurations had changed a little.

There was a small lake beyond our tenting area and the RV section was past that, plus a few spots for RVs on our side. We had a nice walk, displaying our nudity with happy contentment and enjoying the myriad displays of our fellow campers.

One foursome had not bothered to wait till Friday. They looked to be in their late thirties and had a really big blanket spread out over the grass. One man was on his back, one of the ladies sitting happily on his face. I mean really happily. She was making a lot of happy noises. The noises he was making were muffled, but they sounded enthusiastic.

Another lady with a really impressive pair of tits was riding him reverse cowgirl style so she could give an enthusiastic blow job to the second man while he kneaded those big boobs with gentle enthusiasm.

Kim and I were only a part of the small audience enjoying the show. The standing man and his partner stopped what they were doing for a short moment, turned to their audience and grinned, waved, and returned to their activities.

Kim and I offered a short round of applause and continued on our way. She spoke for both of us. "I love Swingstock!"

When we got back to camp I let Kim get the fire going. She likes that chore and thinks she does it better than I do. I don't argue. We've been married long enough to learn our lessons. We never ever argue over unimportant stuff.

I got the steak and corn ears out of the cooler and set them on a plate near the fire to warm up a little before we put them on the grill. We had several big steaks in the cooler. Kim had marinated them before we left home.

Kim may not be the perfect wife, but she's damn close. She's smart, physically fit, she has a sense of humor, and she cares about people.

She's also damn pretty. Pretty face, pretty dark brown hair and pretty hazel eyes. She's a little on the skinny side—not bony, just not a lot of extra padding anywhere. Including the chest area. She's not flat-chested, but there's not much there beyond a handful.

But her legs are perfect. One look at those great legs, and especially those thighs, and a man wants to get his head and his dick in between those and live there for as long as he's allowed. And several have. I'm lucky enough to be the one guy that can do that several times a week.

Oh, lest I forget, that spot in the middle where those legs start their downward progression is as sweet and pretty and snug as any such place could ever hope to be. A few women have had the privilege of snacking on that sweet piece of heaven as well as men. The first time this happened, (and she returned the favor on a pretty blond that had joined us), I didn't comment during the activities, but expressed a little surprise afterward:

"You've never indicated any bi tendencies before."

"I don't think I'm really bi...well, I guess I must be, a little. But I much prefer a good solid hard-on." She thought for a moment. "It's like this. Just because a Milky Way is my absolute all-time favorite doesn't mean I don't enjoy a 3 Musketeers once in a while."

"You've always enjoyed a good milky way, and I have no doubt you'd enjoy three musketeers, too. Which would be fine as long as I was one of them."

She gave me a good horny kiss then and stroked my most vulnerable part. "I wouldn't want 'em unless you were."

We've been told that we cheat. Not that way—it's not cheating if it's consensually mutual. No, we've been told we cheat on our looks. In 2003 we were both a few months on the right side of fifty but friends, co-workers, and relatives all insist we look at least ten years younger. We don't argue the point—we're not falsely modest. That "cheat" of appearance can have benefits at a place like Swingstock.

The camping set-up was such that campers could drive their vehicles to the camp site to unload, but then the car needed to be driven back to the parking lot. We had a couple show up late and choose the space right next to ours. This worked out very well, right then and later.

A young couple in their mid-twenties unloaded their tent from their sedan along with a cooler, big foam pad, sleeping bags, and a camp stove with eating utensils. Then she got in to drive back to the parking lot.

Kim barely hesitated. She left the fire ring—a decent blaze was just beginning—and trotted over to the car.

"How 'bout I come along? It would be easy to get lost in the dark on your way back."

She hesitated; mostly, I think, because Kim was naked. But she had apparently had the same misgivings, so she thanked Kim for the thought and invited her in.

I walked over to our new male neighbor, introduced myself and Kim and suggested we get that tent set up. All he had was a couple of flashlights, which don't do much good for two people if they have to hold them with one hand while working with the other. I ducked into our tent and brought out the two camp lights and turned them to full brightness.

That made the job much easier and we were two pounded stakes short of done when the ladies arrived. Kim and I accepted their expressions of gratitude under one condition: that they join us for dinner.

Phil automatically started to decline, but Carla shushed him the best possible way—with a long and very sincere kiss, and they accepted our invitation.

"We brought extra food in the express hope of having dinner guests. We even have plates and silverware for four. So put your seats on our seats—the ones at the table—and tell us your life stories while I burn dinner."

"Don't worry," Kim assured them. "He won't burn the steaks. How do you want yours, by the way? Don just assumes that everyone likes steak medium rare."

"Medium rare is fine with me," Carla answered, "but Phil is more a medium guy."

I shook my head in mock despair and put his steak on a few minutes before the other three. Phil offered to provide wine coolers and we accepted.

Dinner was fine and so was the conversation. They weren't married, or even formally engaged, but they'd been living together for over a year. They had never done anything like swinging before, and weren't sure they would this weekend. But they'd seen a show about Swingstock on HBO, researched it on the internet, and decided to check it out. Like us the first time, the idea of clothing optional was the real attraction.

The camp lights and fire light had revealed that they were a good-looking couple. Carla might have been Latina, though she had no accent, but she was certainly tanned darker than Kim or I ever get. Dark brown hair was long and curly, dark brown eyes were bigger than average, and she had a cute nose and terrifically white teeth. Her lips were a little fuller than I would call perfect, but not bad at all. I really wanted to see her naked.

I guess opposites do attract sometimes. Phil had long shaggy and very blond hair and barely any tan. But he looked to be in real good shape. I knew that Kim really wanted to see him naked.

One thing was kind of funny. After dinner Kim was up and moving around. She filled our biggest pot with water from our five-gallon tank and put it over the fire to heat up. Then she put the plates and silverware in the pot. Phil kept trying not to stare at Kim while trying to somehow do it at the same time. Kim noticed too and finally mentioned it.

"Phil, don't be shy about staring. I consider it a compliment. If you had no trouble keeping your eyes off me, that might hurt my feelings." She turned to Carla. "Or is he afraid you'll be annoyed?"

She shrugged. "Probably a little of both. We talked about what it might be like here and gave each other sincere permission to enjoy whatever came along. But now, when the reality is right in front of us, it's hard to forget conventions."

Kim gave them both a happy smile. I've seen men go from flaccid to fuck-ready in seconds in response to that smile. I could bet Phil grew a bulge right then.

"Most of the people at Swingstock, except for first-timers like you two that may not be sure, belong to one or more of three types. There's the hard-core swingers that are here for as much sexual variety with as many friends—new and old—as they can get. Then there's the exhibitionists that want to be watched whether they're walking on the road or fucking on the grass. The bigger the audience, the better. And of course there's the voyeurs. They want to see everyone else, watch people having sex or parading around naked, and hoping for a great show."

Carla asked in a shy voice, "Which are you and Don, if you don't mind me asking."

Carla got another dose of that same happy smile. If she had even a bare (pun intended) attraction to women, she probably creamed her panties right there.

"We're all three. And if there was a fourth group, chances are we'd be in that one too." After a little more conversation they decided it was time to sleep. They'd both been up since five and put in a full work day before packing up the car and the two-hour drive.

They offered more expressions of gratitude.

"Don, Kim, thanks a lot for your help and for dinner. I'm not sure how we'll be able to return the favors, but if you think of anything, just ask."

"Don't worry about it. Our pleasure. And as for returning the favor, well, this is Swingstock. I'm sure someone will think of something."

Kim and I exchanged glances, and then she added with a chuckle, "I'm sure someone already has!"

The other couple laughed too, though not without a little apprehension. Kim had already declined Carla's offer to help with clean-up so those two went into their tent and got undressed. They'd left the window flaps open so we could see them sort of in silhouette by the light of their flashlights.

Seeing Carla take off her t-shirt and bra got me ready for sex. Seeing Phil get undressed, and seeing the two of them, obviously naked, stand there and kiss with long passion, and then seeing him kiss her breasts before the two of them lay down out of sight put Kim in the same state of arousal.

It took us less than ten minutes to wash and dry the dishes. The fire was declining, but still had plenty of warmth and light. It was secure in the fire ring so we left it and eagerly got into our tent.

Kim wanted to do a seventy, but I suggested a sixty-eight. We compromised on the number in between and enjoyed that for fifteen minutes before we changed positions and made love.

Carla and Phil were not quiet lovers. The sounds of ecstasy may not have been amplified for our benefit, but hearing their pleasures added excitement to our own.

That's another thing great about Swingstock. You can hear people enjoying sex and you know they can hear you. Exhibitionism and voyeurism can be auditory as well as visual.

Kim is a moaner, not a screamer, but her moans were a little louder than what we get at home. It made for fantastic loving and superlative sex.

We were both ready as soon as we laid down and after the foreplay my saliva-coated erection slipped into her snug but very wet pussy like a perfectly machined piston into its well-oiled cylinder. She wrapped her legs around my waist, tilting her hips to the perfect angle for me to hit her g-spot and rub her excited clit at the same time. She came hard and fast, clutching me with her legs and her arms and kissing me with lips and tongue, licking and savoring the taste of her pussy juices on my face and in my mouth. Her moans got louder and longer as she came again and yet again, finally gasping to me, begging me to come with her as she enjoyed another body-shaking orgasm, thrusting her hips into mine, her wonderful vagina flooding us both with her orgasmic juices and pushing me over the edge into a total leg-shaking ejaculation that seemed to last for several long, long minutes.

We have a tradition. After really great sex (which is every time) one of us makes use of a fun expression. This time it was me: "Wheeeee!" And as tradition dictates, we both chuckle and cuddle and kiss and fall asleep—or get dressed if it's in the middle of the day. This time we fell asleep, her little breasts pushed against my back and her wet and now sticky pussy in intimate contact with my backside.

We slept until the sun woke us. We put on sandals, grabbed towels and soap and shampoo and walked to the open air showers. Swingstock ran out of hot water mid-morning on Saturday that year. Swingers take a lot of showers. But there was plenty Friday morning. A middle-aged couple was there before us and we were joined by two other couples, both younger, while we were there. There were six different shower heads. That was another big attraction—the open air showers. We liked watching other couples shower and interact and help each other wash; usually washing of the genital areas was a priority, and the washing often provoked the expected reaction.

It was not unheard of for a couple to engage in some act of sex right there in the shower. Usually one partner would get on their knees and give oral sex to the other. Sometimes it was a blow job, other times it was a pussy licking. Many orgasms have been publicly achieved right there in the showers.

After toweling off and walking back to camp we were ready for breakfast. I hung the towels on the clothesline and started the fire while Kim prepared hash browns and sausage and eggs. I made the coffee. After cooking and eating came digesting. We relaxed in the lawn chairs as we did the day before and enjoyed the show.

One other thing that may be relevant. Although I was good then for a single session, if I was going to be ready for sex all day I needed a little help. I'd found out before that if I took a full Viagra in the morning, and then half a pill every four or five hours, I could maintain readiness all around the clock. In fact, it even allowed me to keep my erection after I came. The real wonder drug.

We had plans to go swimming later that morning but circumstances dictated that we wait till the afternoon.

Almost as soon as we finished breakfast Phil and Carla emerged. Naked. They did not look completely at ease, but that was normal for the first time folks took to parading around in their birthday suits in front of dozens of strangers. Phil had two towels slung over his shoulder. Carla carried a small clear bag holding soap and shampoo and a wash rag.

I called out a good morning. They looked around and blushed a little, or at least he did. It was hard to tell with her, and I'll admit I did not spare more than a passing glance at her very pretty face.

Without even a shred of self-consciousness I looked at her beautiful naked body. Especially her incredibly perfect breasts. They were not especially large, but had that firm assertiveness of youth. Her nipples were two dollops of milk chocolate confection on two natural mounds of light brown sponge cake.

Her waist was small and toned and she had a pert little ass and the comparatively narrows hips of a young woman that had never been pregnant.

She had nice legs, but if Kim's were a ten, and they were, then Carla's were an eight. Her pussy was bare. Kim always maintained a well-trimmed triangle; we both preferred that for genital sex; but I enjoy bare too.

The Viagra declared its presence.

Kim noticed. She chuckled quietly. "I don't blame him a bit. And Phil looks pretty tempting too."

Difficult as it was, I pulled my eyes off Carla long enough to check out her escort. Well-muscled, and well-endowed. I'm only at the top end of average—about six-and-a-half inches. Phil wasn't hard, but looked like he might manage close to eight when he got excited.

Carla asked, "Where's the showers?"

Kim pointed. "Down that road and keep your eyes open to the left. About a three-minute walk." Then, in a more confidential tone, "Donny Dear, we have got to get those two in a compromising position."

"You heard 'em last night and they probably heard us. With any luck they'll put themselves right where we want 'em."

Almost as soon as Phil and Carla were out of sight, Jimmy and Millie came into sight. They were a couple about our age, both short and stocky and attractive in their own unique way. Millie had big boobs that had been surgically lifted at least twice—she bragged about it. Jimmy was not well-endowed, but he had a tongue that could touch the tip of his nose or his chin. We'd shared some very happy hours in the past. We hopped up and exchanged hugs and kisses. Millie grabbed what you'd expect her to grab when she kissed me, and I returned the greeting with a nipple pinch. Jimmy and Kim exchanged similar greetings and we made a date for Saturday afternoon. That hook-up was eminently satisfactory, but is not a part of this story.

Phil and Carla were back quickly, laughing and brazenly looking at their fellow naked campers. In our tenting area virtually everyone went naked. Even the pregnant young lady four spaces down wore nothing but sandals.

We invited our young neighbors to put their towels on the clothesline, then sit with us and share coffee. We apologized for not having any breakfast left. We chatted for a while. They'd told us about themselves the night before. This morning they had questions about us; especially questions about our swinging history and other personal questions. We answered freely. We're certainly not ashamed of the lifestyle, and besides that, we were hoping to initiate these two into the pleasures of multiple partner sex. We didn't lie, but we did paint the rosiest possible picture. We hoped to get them really horny. It should have worked, since it was certainly getting me horny. I did not bother to try to hide my growth. I figured that might help, her especially.

I guess it did. Phil hadn't spoken nearly as much as Carla, but this time he seemed to be into the whole spirit of the occasion, despite his blush.

"Wow. You've made me totally horny. C, I think we need to go back to our tent for a while." He got up, revealing about eighty percent of what would become an impressive erection.