When I announced my last post “She’s Got a Dirty Mouth” on twitter, I received a request from one of my twitter followers about one of the audio posts I shared along with the post:
https://twitter.com/MaliciousRTpet/status/1349872896647323649
I just love the story behind this particular audio clip, so I began the process of writing about it. However, I found that the richness and depth of the story would be lost without contextualizing it in my broader experience with voyeurism and exhibitionism. I will end this exploration with the Anniversary Story, but I’m going to begin it on a balmy night in September several years ago.
“I don’t think I can do this…” my boyfriend stammered, his voice wavering with trepidation bordering on dread. I let out a labored sigh, annoyed yet feeling compassion for the man I loved at the same time. We had been sitting in my car parked outside a nondescript strip mall containing an unmarked red door. As we sat there talking, both trying to muster up the courage to make a move, we watched couple after couple casually park their cars and saunter in the red door as if they had been there a thousand times. We came prepared. The cooler we bought earlier in the day was the perfect size to sit underneath a cocktail table and was filled with tequila and vodka. I wore a short black dress with stockings and no panties, in an attempt to straddle the line between slutty and classy. He wore his nicest dress slacks and my favorite collared shirt (we had copiously researched the dress code in the weeks prior). Yet, for all of our preparation, we had found ourselves up against an invisible barrier of fear that seemed to be paralyzing my boyfriend from leaving the car.
I was feeling an entirely different set of emotions. Since my boyfriend and I had decided to open our relationship to a “swinger” status, I had been very excited about going to a swinger club. It seemed to be the most viable way of meeting other couples whom we could potentially play with. I also imagined the atmosphere to contain an explosive energy of hedonism and debauchery that would allow my most slutty fantasies to burst into reality. As I studied the photos of the club online, I imagined an “Eyes Wide Shut” scenario of people fucking everywhere in true Roman orgy fashion. I had mentally prepared myself to be right in the middle of the tangle of bodies writhing in pleasure I would surely find behind that red door. I had allowed myself to desire that level of craven sexual pleasure and I wanted to experience it with my boyfriend. After all this, here we were, and he was bitching out. I was caught between wanting to be a good girlfriend and wanting desperately to see what was happening a short 50 feet away from where we sat.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this. We don’t have to go. We can turn around and go home.” I said in a fatigued, placating tone.
“No, we came all the way out here. We should at least go inside.” He said determinedly. This was typical of my boyfriend. It was his signature grin-and-bear-it, grit-your-teeth-and-get-it-done attitude. In our communication thus far, my boyfriend had consistently expressed interest tempered with nervousness about going to the club and specifically about fucking around other people. He was anxious about his ability to perform with other people watching. I had reassured him that I had no expectation of playing and that our first visit should really just be for socializing and watching. I can admit now that I wasn’t entirely honest with him or myself at the time. Deep down, I absolutely wanted to fuck someone else or at the very least involve myself sexually with another women or couple. Now I found myself in a quagmire: do I relent with his tenuous agreement to go in and take it at face value, or do I communicate and attempt to ease his fears further? I decided on the latter.
“Can you tell me what you are specifically most nervous about?” I genuinely inquired.
“Well….I just….I just don’t know if I can be with another woman right now.” He said.
I remember feeling taken aback, as this was not the response I expected to receive. In fact it raised more questions than answers. So, he wasn’t most concerned about me fucking someone else and the jealousy that may arise from that? He wasn’t most concerned about whether or not he could obtain and maintain an erection with other people around? He was most nervous about sleeping with another woman? Why? The answer eluded me although we spent the next several minutes discussing it. We came to the agreement that if we did play at the club tonight it would be with one another. I was still pondering his response as we walked through the red door and crossed the threshold I had been so eagerly awaiting.
If you’ve never been to an on-premises sex club, let me be the first to assure you that they are absolutely nothing like you imagine them to be. There is no “Eyes Wide Shut” orgy happening. People are not fucking everywhere, in fact, the areas where sex can occur are relegated to certain rooms. In reality, swinger clubs are simply night clubs without a bar and with far worse music (I could write an entire blog post about how bad the music is at most swinger clubs-my apologies to any DJ’s reading this but the playlist just fucking sucks). A few of these realizations were beginning to dawn on me as my boyfriend and I were led around the club by a tall, beautiful woman in a bikini who was giving us a tour. She showed us the main dance floor and lounge where most of the other club-goers were currently congregated. A disco-ball spun lights around the dark room. It reminded me of a middle school dance ambiance. She led us to a large adjacent room where three beds were set up side-by-side with sheer curtains hanging from the bedposts. Beyond the beds was a small staircase leading into a room with couches lining the walls and a single bed In the center with no curtains. She described this room as “the pit” and stated that it was the designated group-play area in the club. Something about that name and the set up of the room piqued my interest. After showing us a few more play areas and the smoking area on the patio the bikini-clad staff member concluded the tour and we were on our own.
My boyfriend and I sat at a table and unpacked our cooler. He hurriedly obtained a drink “set-up” containing ice, plastic glasses, and mixers from the bartender and made us both drinks. As we sat sipping our drinks and watching couples dance I decided to check in with my boyfriend. I leaned over and grabbed his arm, putting my face up to his ear so he could hear me over the din of the music and couples talking.
“Well, what do you think? How are you feeling about this?” I inquired.
“I feel good. The club is pretty cool. I’m glad we came.” He replied in my ear.
I felt relieved. It appeared that we had cleared the hurdle and all was well. My boyfriend excused himself to go to the restroom. I sat alone for a few minutes, taking everything in. When my boyfriend returned he had a sly smile on his face. He took a sip from his drink and leaned into my ear:
“We haven’t been here 10 minutes and I’ve already been approached by someone wanting to fuck you.” He said almost gleefully.
Feelings of excitement rose up within me. It’s always flattering to receive that kind of attention, and it felt right that this mystery man had approached my boyfriend before approaching me.
“Who was it?” I hurriedly asked.
“The guy in the cowboy hat standing by the DJ’s booth.” He replied.
I paused a moment and drew my eyes over to the DJ’s booth and saw an older gentleman with a cowboy hat tapping his toe in time to the music. I was 27 when this evening occurred and I surmised him to be pushing 50. I fucked him later that night. It was forgettable and not at all the most noteworthy event to occur that evening. My boyfriend and I engaged in further conversation about this for the next few minutes, and I asserted that we had agreed to only play together. We agreed to keep our options open and see how things may develop as the night was young.
Over the next several hours people poured into the club. We didn’t know this at the time but we had arrived extremely early. Most of the action at swinger clubs tends to happen around the midnight hour and we had arrived as the doors opened at 8:00. My boyfriend and I attempted to fuck twice in a room with a closed door. My boyfriend wasn’t able to perform, explaining that the noise of others playing and milling about was too much of a distraction for him. I reassured him that I wasn’t upset and that I was satisfied that we had adventured further than we ever had before. I told him that was exciting enough for me.
The most memorable part of that evening occurred in the early morning hours as we had both decided it was nearly time to go home. My boyfriend and I had walked over to “the pit” a few times that evening to see if anything worth watching was happening down there. Each time we checked there was nothing truly exciting happening. A few couples had wandered down and were engaged in some foreplay throughout the night, but nothing more exciting than that. As we approached this last time there was a tangible shift in the energy. We walked past the three beds towards a congregation of people who had gathered around the top of the stairway leading into the pit. In my drunken state I became aware of the scent of sex in the air and heard moans of sensual pleasure. I felt swept up in a fervor of excitement, allowing myself to begin to hope to experience my Roman orgy fantasy in real life. I needed to step between and around the others standing there to see what was happening in “the pit.” I finally reached a clearing where I could catch a glimpse at what was happening in the room below.
There were about 15 people spread around the room engaged in various sex acts. Most were in a state of half undress, but one couple was completely naked. They were in the center of the room fucking on the lone mattress. She was riding his cock reverse cowgirl style, boldly facing the crowd in front of her. For a fleeting moment, her eyes caught mine and I was transfixed by her energy as she gyrated on her lover’s cock. Then I heard a woman next to me yell “Happy birthday Cassie!” The woman in the center of the room smiled. More members of the crowd started yelling their happy birthday wishes to her, and she responded by vigorously riding her lover’s cock, playing with her clit as she basked in the attention and affection of an entire room.
I remember being lost in a riptide of emotions in that moment, My pussy was drenched and I was so utterly turned on by what I was seeing. More than anything, I wanted to be that beautiful, empowered woman that was so blatantly pursuing her pleasure while being on full display in front of such a large crowd. The exhibitionist within me was born that night. In my fantasies in the following weeks it was me riding my lover’s cock in front of a crowd of people. However, I was privy to two realities whenever I allowed my thoughts to drift there. How desperately I wanted to be watched by others and how seemingly impossible it was that my boyfriend would be able to live out that fantasy with me. If I were ever to truly be watched the way I desired to be I realized it wouldn’t be possible with my boyfriend. The implications of this frightened me, as I didn’t want to think about where I might be led if I did decide to pursue my exhibitionist desires. So I temporarily abandoned any attempt to live out this fantasy and occasionally relegated it to some dirty talk with my boyfriend. Little did I know at the time that my boyfriend was engaging in his own internal tug-of-war surrounding disclosing a fantasy of his own to me: his desire to be my cuckold. And so, as couples often do, we found ourselves harboring the solution to each other’s dilemmas for a while longer as we gathered enough experience and trust to be totally and brutally honest with one another.
As always, special thanks to my wonderful volunteer editor Castaway.
