I Went to a Swingers’ Club with My Girlfriend

I can’t say I’ve ever been particularly interested in swingers’ clubs, mostly because in my mind they are the haunts of the old, desperate, and flaccid, the playgrounds of gold-toothed Russian mobsters and characters out of Michel Houellebecq novels.

But then came an offer from my girlfriend. She had been to a swingers’ club a few years before we met and found it quite fun. I said nothing at the time, mulling over it instead. A few days later, on a weekend, we were in a club drinking with some of my friends till the early hours. Around three in the morning, I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I think now’s the right time. Let’s go swinging.”

We left our group without much explanation and hopped in the car. Twelve miles later, we were up in the mountains on the outskirts of Barcelona, looking for parking outside a mansion. As we walked through the gates, a well-attired man in his 40s came out of the door in the company of two women. My doubts about my own outfit were confirmed as soon as we walked in. Compared with everyone else in the club, I was dressed like a fucking dog. The glamorous woman that greeted us explained politely that my shorts were totally against the dress code, but since it was my first time, just this once, they were willing to let it go.

Entrance cost about $70 and included four drinks. Men could enter only if accompanied by a woman, while women were allowed in either way. We were given a tour of all the different rooms—these included a disco (full of naked people), a pool (also full of naked people but which we did not try because my girlfriend hated the idea of all the sperm swimming around in the water), several king-size bedrooms, a cinema (which only showed porn, of course), and a terrace (which I guessed would be the equivalent of a night club’s chill-out zone. The rules were made clear: Our belongings had to be left at the entrance, where we were given a towel and a pair of slippers. The couple should not at any point separate.

After going through these first steps, we drank some whiskey and walked around, taking in everything that was happening around us in an attempt to acclimate to the people and environment. Finally, we decided to go into one of the rooms. We moved into semi-darkness, while some 20 people engaged in various sexual activities in the space around us. We found a corner and started getting it on. It did not take long for others to join us, and within a few minutes our couple had turned into a handful.

The rules had been clear form the start: You must always ask for the couple’s permission to participate, whether that is expressed or implied, keeping in mind that “no” very definitely means no. But of course, once you get into it, “no” isn’t going to be in very many people’s vocabulary. With an unmistakable gesture, a guy asked for my permission to get closer to my girlfriend. Before I could remind him of the obligation to use a condom, he showed me he already had one in his hand. He put it on and as he penetrated her, I pushed her head southward, asking her to give me a blowjob.

Shortly after that I lost her for a while. I ended up in another corner with two women while my girlfriend was his. I found her much later in another room—she was giving some other guy a blowjob, so I started licking her pussy while different sets of hands touched her everywhere. After a powerful orgasm, she got up, drank more whiskey, and started talking to a guy who told her that he was trying to hold back ejaculating for as long as possible but that having sex with her made that very difficult. I listened as I received oral sex from another complete stranger.

We took a break on the terrace. We smoked and talked with a guy from Seville, who spoke passionately against Catalan nationalism. That was a little boring, so we left—this time for the cinema, where we had sex with another couple. We never exchanged a word with them, but we understood one another quite easily. You see, part of the fun is looking, but also showing off.

After we were done with them, we went on a final tour of the house and decided to leave. We returned home satisfied—a new day was just beginning. Still excited, we smoked a last spliff and fucked while discussing the experience.

Maybe in a different context I would not have felt any attraction to the people I met that night, but I don’t think I would have found anyone repugnant either. There were young people there but also older people—smaller and other larger, athletic bodies as well as bodies that clearly had not been taken good care of. But in the context of a swingers’ club, that was unimportant.

The really interesting thing about the experience was the purely sexual connection established between complete strangers. It is also a great way for a couple to get over jealousy. You have to turn the tables and use others’ sexual desire to your advantage. And if you cannot get over jealousy, you should just join in.

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