Swingers and Roundabouts

We were outside the only house in bungaville. It was freezing. As swinging parties go, this one I was told was to be fairly tame. It's my feeling that I don't go around looking for these things but it's nice to be asked and it would be rude not to at least show one's face. I'm not one for extravagant dress or over exposure, so I opted for the chaps, spangly waistcoat topped off with cowboy boots and stetson. No more, no less. I stood on the doorstep next to Ray and flicked through the small book I presumed he had given me; Hints and Tips for the Modern Swinger.

Page 2

Remember, not everyone at the party will be there to have sex. Some people will be there to watch or simply meet other people. Please do not think that because you're at a a swinging party that you have the right to touch just anyone and everyone present...

"Don't worry it'll be fine." said Ray.
"That's easy for you to say." The cold weather was taking a ridiculous toll on my penis.
I tossed the book into the nearby bushes and pushed the buzzer. Detective Inspector Cutler opened the door. His bushy moustache pressed up against the tight latex of his mask. He was instantly recognizable and made a gruff sound and retreated as I stepped in. The smell of high grade skunk was in the air and laughter came from every room. I noticed Mike in the corner of the main reception room, dressed only in a pair of nasty purple briefs. The briefs were rolled round his buttocks. He was masturbating furiously into a large cheese plant.
"How's it going?" he looked up cheerfully.
"Fine Mike."
"Wild party eh?"
"I just got here." I looked closer. Lumps of pastry were falling from his hand. He was jacking off with the remains of a sausage roll.
"Watch the carpet Mike."
"Oh Christ, don't worry there's plenty more in there on the table." he pointed through to a large dining room. It was beautifully decorated in Victorian arsenicum green. Asperdistras hung around in rasterfarian huddles whilst a large mahogony dining table filled the centre space. The most exquisite cream cake buffet was laid out with doileys and the finest china tea set. Compared to the rest of the party, this room was the eye of the storm. I was contemplating tea and where I should sit when a female high pitch scream of delight burst through the door followed by 18 stone of sheer muscle. It was Billy from the gym and Helen my next door neighbour freshly widowed. Billy caught her fleshy arm and in one smooth movement picked her up, span her round and brought her to rest on the dining table. It was only now that I realised the state of undress that she was actually in. I and the rest of the world was used to Billy's half nakedness. Billy stood between Helen's legs at the head of the table. Helen's grin contorted her face; there was no hiding from pleasure here. Billy picked up two of the largest cream cakes either side of Helen's head and plunged them down into her gaping bosom. Within seconds the two of them were writhing in assorted dairy produce. My penis was beginning to recover.

I noted that the adjoining kitchen was remarkably civilized considering the potential for food sex and utentsil hiding. People I half recognized stood around in various states of undress, elegantly tipping large goblets of wine into flip top mouths and guffawing like ponies. I side stepped a middle aged woman naked to the waist, in velvet jacket, riding hat and crop tucked neatly under her arm as she squatted down and urinated noisily in a silver dog bowl by the back door. She looked up at me and smiled as if she expected a reward. I had none to give and felt distinctly guilty about it. I left for the lounge.

I almost half expected the scene that greeted me on my entrance. A sprawl of writhing flesh that grabbed at my ankles, ran palms up and down my hamstrings. Every now and again a glimpse of someone I knew who had come up for air between courses. Ray, PC Derringer, the barmaid from the Dog and Frog, the landlord from the Dog and Frog, some girls I recognized from the club. Mr Konstantin? No, can’t have been. At the centre of the piece was the head of the snake, glorious on his upholstered leather lazyboy, two flimsily dressed flapper girls draped around each shoulder. They rubbed, stroked and kissed the centre of their attention, Pharaoh Jones was seemed infinitely more interested in the blonde of the pair. Someone grabbed again at my ankle and then I felt a cold wet mouth on my big toe. I wanted to kick out, tell them to get off. I remembered my get out clause on page 3 of the swinger’s manual.


Page 3

If you find yourself uncomfortable with anyone or anything you are asked or invited to do, remember you can politely say ‘no thanks’ with a smile and say that you are off to find a drink. It can be very tempting to have feelings of hostility or insecurity when at a swingers party. If you have these feelings, relax and take a deep breath. Go and have a drink. If these feelings persist, perhaps swinging is not for you.

“You didn’t read page 3.” It was Ray.
“What do you mean?”
“You threw the book in the bushes after page 2.”
“So how do I know what’s on page 3?”
“You figure it out, I got work to do.”

I decided to take my own advice. I smiled at the young girl on the floor reaching up for me like a sex crazed zombie. “No thanks.” I said and smiled with a smile so faux not even she believed it. I open the door to what appeared to be a darkened room. It was except for the triangular canopy over the snooker table in the centre. I thought to myself that snooker was so satisfying and yet utterly frustrating. I decided to play a frame. There was a shadow at the door.
“Hey cowboy.” I recognized the voice instantly, it was Beth. She had been one of the flimsy flapper girls sat on the Pharoah’s knee. The light leaking from the doorframe behind her made her dress translucent. I gulped as she approached and ran a soft hand up the inside of my chaps. Beth whispered in my ear. “What’s your biggest break then?” I thought I was going to explode. There was a voice behind me.
“Fifty four, come on.” There was a loud crack, the sound of snooker balls being split. Ray was spinning his cue between the pincers of his lobster hand as Mike started throwing the hefty balls though at the curtained windows smashing the windows. Beth took hold of me. I could feel her breath, the cherry smell of her hair. And then the light, Mike was letting in so much of it. Stop the light; everyone would see. But before they could, they were all gone including Beth..
.