Emma's parents were swingers - will she be one too?

Emma's parents were swingers—will she be one too?

Your parents don’t have sex anymore, do they? They’re boring, dull and unexciting. Emma and Jake had been married for less than a year when, out of the blue, her parents were killed in a train crash in France. Not long after, they discovered the opposite—to their shock and amazement.

They were clearing out the attic when they came across her mother’s diaries—and they told a very different tale. One that would have a major impact on Emma and Jake’s lives.

Her parents’ death was, quite understandably, a massive shock for Emma. The past three weeks waiting for the French coroner to release the bodies and then arranging for their transfer back to the UK had been hard. As an only child, she had, to an extent, shut Jake out of the process and focused on her own grief. Bless him, Jake realised what was happening and played a totally supportive role. He had always got on really well with her parents, but he devoted his energies to ensuring that Emma was able to cope with the trauma.

One of the tasks Emma had was to provide the information for the eulogy. She hadn’t decided whether she or the humanist leading the ceremony would actually give it, but she wanted it to be honest and heartfelt. So, she and Jake were, that Saturday afternoon, rummaging through the attic of her parents’ house. Although Emma was only 25, she had lived away from home since heading off to Manchester University at 18. She’d met Jake in her final year and they’d moved into a flat in the city after graduating. They’d both got good jobs straight out of uni so were pretty busy with their burgeoning careers and only got to see her parents—and his—a few weekends a year and Christmas, of course.

Clambering over bits of old hi-fi systems, chests of drawers, lamps, a wooden towel rail, a plastic Christmas tree and all sorts of bric-a-brac, she came across a cardboard box with her mother’s writing on it. It hadn’t been there that long—compared to some of the other items, there wasn’t any dust covering it. When she opened it, she was confronted by what she first thought was a set of neatly stacked books. However, when she picked one up, she quickly realised it was a diary—and it didn’t take her long to see that they were all diaries.

“Look at these, Jake,” she called him over. “I never knew that Mum kept a diary. Look, they go back years.”

Jake settled down beside her and picked one up for himself. He opened it carefully; it seemed to fall neatly into two equal halves, opening at the 7th of July 2015. He started to read the entry for that day but stopped abruptly.

“Blimey, I think you better see this, Em,” his voice faltering a bit. He handed her the open diary and pointed to the date. He watched her closely as she read the entry silently...

“July 7: Roger and I had arranged to meet up with Alice and Peter for drinks, and maybe more. (There was a smiley face drawn beside the comment.) I really like Peter and I can see that Roger has the hots for Alice. Tonight could be a real pleasure.”

“What the fuck!” Emma gasped. “What is this? I don’t believe this. What does this mean?”

Jake had selected another diary at random and flipped through the pages. “Here,” he said, “look at this entry for March 2018. It’s another couple mentioned here.” Emma swapped diaries and her eyes grew wider and wider. Her mouth was wide open and she was shaking her head. “Mum and Dad were swingers? I had no idea.”

Over the course of the next hour or so, they opened all the diaries, which went from earlier this year all the way back to 2005. Not every date had an entry, but it seemed that pretty much every one that did was about their sexual encounters: the build-up, in some cases graphic details about what had gone on, and in many cases a detailed analysis of what had been good, what not so, and how to make things better.

The very first entry in the first diary was an account of what had been their first experience of swinging. It started innocently with a dinner party...

“Wow, what an experience that was. I’m so glad that Roger and I joined in! I thought there was something going on while we were still eating. It was just a few looks across the table between our hosts Art and Jane and their friends Geoff and Helen. The kind of look that says they know something we don’t.

The conversation was a bit racy—the four of them, really—swapping stories of fun and games they’d got up to on various holidays. The best we could offer was an afternoon of outdoor sex we’d enjoyed on a holiday in our youth. I was a bit embarrassed by their openness, but as the evening went on, and Art kept topping up my wine glass, my inhibitions were definitely loosening up.

After dinner we retired to their lounge, a great big room with a massive three-sided corner-style settee around a large coffee table, the open side facing a blazing log fire. I can’t remember who suggested playing spin the bottle, but that was definitely the start of everything. The brandies helped as well.

It started innocently with a few truth questions before the dares began. Before long, Geoff and Jane were snogging. I felt a bit shocked but at the same time I felt bloody horny. I could tell from Roger pressing against me that he felt the same. Then Helen was dared to kiss me! Well, what can I say? It was amazing. She didn’t just kiss me though—her hands were all over my boobs, I could feel my nipples growing hard. She didn’t stop, and I wasn’t going to stop her either. I was starting to feel a deep warmth spreading through me, and I wanted more.

I surfaced for a breath and saw Art had got up and walked across to us. His hands came from behind Helen and started to massage my breasts. I gasped in surprise. No other man had done that to me for years—only Roger. I looked to see how he was reacting and saw that Jane was now sitting in his lap, her hands around his neck and her mouth pressed against his. Wow, I thought, she’s a fast worker! He caught me looking and we exchanged a look. The look that said I trust you. It’s okay.

Things got even more heated. Geoff peeled Helen away from Art and me. I felt Art’s body pressed tight against mine; he was already aroused. The combination of the food, the alcohol, the heat from the fire and Roger’s trust in me—my emotions were on fire, my pulse racing. Art pushed me back on the settee and started to undress me; I didn’t attempt to stop him. Jane was already naked and doing her best to get Roger the same. His hands were pushed between her legs and she was moaning in pleasure.

Art pulled my pants down and then unzipped his trousers. My hands went to his hips and pulled his pants down. His arousal sprang free, and I wanted it. I told him so. Normally I like a lot of foreplay, but right now all I wanted was to feel him inside me, deep inside me, filling me up. He positioned himself between my legs and pushed against me. He began to move slowly, and I could feel him almost pulling out before plunging back in again.

Over his shoulder, I could see Jane bouncing up and down on Roger’s lap. I could tell from his expression that he was close. That spurred me on. I told Art to hurry up, I wanted to feel his release. Then Roger started to come, and Jane was crying out as she climaxed too. That set me off, and I gripped Art so tightly he groaned loudly, then his hips jerked hard as he came. My own pleasure rushed throughout my pelvis and down my legs.

I didn’t know quite how to react after that; this was all too much for me. But Art hugged me and stroked my hair, and told me how much he’d enjoyed our passion. He asked me if I was feeling okay. “That was your first time, wasn’t it?” I nodded in agreement. “Relax,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re a natural, and I can see that Roger enjoyed himself as well. Talk it through when you get home, but I’m pretty confident that your relationship with Roger is going to be even better now.”

Then the unmistakable sounds of Geoff and Helen reaching their climax came from behind the settee. “Go on, son,” Art enthusiastically called out, and for some reason that made me laugh. Then Art, Roger and Jane joined in, and the tension was broken. After all, we were all consenting adults, and it had been great fun.

“Oh my god!” cried Emma. “Mum and Dad were swingers!” She read on quickly.

“As soon as we got home and Roger had paid the taxi, we started talking about it. We both agreed that it had been a surprise, but it had been extremely exciting, and we decided to sleep on it before making any hasty decisions about future dinner parties. Roger was as horny as hell. He virtually ripped my clothes off and lay on top of me on the bed. He kissed his way down and gave me a series of fantastic orgasms with his tongue. Then he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. I slid down onto him, it felt bigger than usual, and began to grind my hips into him. We didn’t last very long. I felt his body tense, and then he shuddered deep inside me. It wasn’t long before I felt waves of pleasure engulf me. Well, if this is the outcome... maybe we’ll do it again.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Emma exclaimed. “My mother is really into sex. And I thought they were boring old farts!” “Blimey,” Jake exhaled loudly. “Who’d have thought it? Swingers, eh?”

Jake carried the box down from the attic, and they spent another hour reading selected extracts from the diaries. They started off reading silently but soon were grabbing each other’s arms and saying “Wait, listen to this,” then reading out a particularly juicy passage. Then Jake had an idea.

“You know what? We should check the most recent entries. There might be people there who haven’t heard and might even want to come to the funeral.”

“Good idea,” Emma agreed and picked up the last diary. “We’d better make some notes, in case the same names keep cropping up.” They went back over five years and had soon compiled a surprisingly long list of names. “My god,” said Emma, “they really were going for it!” They decided that if a couple appeared more than three times on the list, then they were obviously a bit more than just casual encounters. That brought the number down to six couples, including the originals, Art and Jane. Emma had an idea she had met them before, and the thought of what they’d been doing made her blush, yet at the same time it strangely excited her.

Planning the funeral took most of Emma’s energies, and when a date had finally been set, she was exhausted. Jake volunteered to contact the six couples to see if they’d heard the sad news. Emma was still too embarrassed by her parents’ behaviour to speak to these people. Jake phoned Art and Jane first. They hadn’t heard the news but admitted that they had been worried, as they had not heard from Emma’s parents for several weeks. Jake said that he had some other names he wanted to contact and wondered if they might know them, and could pass on the news and information about the funeral. When he went through the list, Art confirmed he knew them all. He said there were a couple of others he would also tell. Jake thanked him profusely, having been saved a series of potentially embarrassing conversations.

That night, at bedtime, Emma was reading one of the diaries. She turned to Jake and said, “Why do you think they did it?” Jake thought carefully before answering. “I guess they found it exciting; it added something extra to their marriage. Clearly they were devoted to one another, and they had a very strong, secure base to their relationship.” Emma looked into Jake’s eyes. “Do we have a strong base to our marriage?” she enquired. “What?” coughed Jake. “What do you mean? Of course we do. You know I’d do anything for you. What are you suggesting?” “Nothing,” Emma replied quickly. “Just wondering.” “Wondering what?” pressed Jake. “Oh, I don’t know,” Emma coyly whispered. “I just wondered if the same might happen to us one day. It seems fairly common.”

“Are you saying you want to swing, Em? Is our marriage not exciting enough?” Jake was becoming agitated. “No, I’m not saying that at all,” Emma hurriedly answered. “I’m just confused that my parents turned to it. It doesn’t fit with my perception of what their lives were like. I’m sorry to have mentioned it.” She reached out to Jake and pulled him to her. Her hand slipped down and grasped him. She guided his hand to her. “God, you’re really turned on, aren’t you?” Jake’s fingers easily slipped inside her, and his thumb began to rub her clitoris. She moaned into his ear and started to bite his earlobe. He was growing hard; she could feel the vein on the side of him throbbing. She pushed him back and her mouth sought him out. She ran her tongue over the tip, paying special attention to the sensitive spot where his release would come from. He pulled her head towards him, guiding her deeper. She almost gagged but managed to take him in. She clamped her lips onto him and slowly withdrew her head, groaning with pleasure as tremors ran through him.

She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him. Grasping him in her hand, she rubbed him against her soaking core, giving her clit a good massage. She wanted him inside her now. Her mind went back to that opening diary entry, and she imagined herself sliding onto another man. She moaned with pleasure as she felt his balls rubbing against her. It took all her willpower not to come then, calling out another man’s name. She looked into Jake’s eyes and smiled. He smiled back at her and started to thrust upwards. She countered with her own hips, and together they moved slowly but with a deep purpose. Without warning, her orgasm blossomed; it felt like hot liquid running through her veins. She shuddered and gripped him as tightly as she could. She collapsed onto him, still joined. He rolled her off him and turned her face down on the bed. Then he positioned himself behind her. He pulled her up to meet him and drove into her still-soaking centre. Gripping her hips with his hands, he began to thrust in and out, in and out. He seemed to be able to last for ages; she came twice before she felt his thrusting get more urgent, his breathing get louder. And then he gave a loud cry, and his release burst free, so much of it that she soon felt it oozing out of her and down her thighs. He gradually pulled out of her and crumpled into a heap beside her.

“Wow,” he said. “You were amazing. I love it when you start things off.” “I could tell,” Emma giggled. “That was pretty fucking exciting!” She didn’t mention the thought of it being someone else’s cock she was riding. She wrapped her arms around Jake, and they soon fell asleep.

The day of the funeral arrived. After the cremation, there was a wake with a cold buffet to be held back at Emma’s parents’—and soon to be her—house. Jake and Emma had bought in lots of ready-made sandwiches, rolls and cakes, plus enough wine and beer to sink a battleship. They set off for the crematorium with mixed emotions; sadness, of course, underlay everything, but Emma also was secretly excited. She expected to be meeting the people whose behaviour and physical characteristics she had been reading about in her mother’s diaries.

The ceremony went smoothly; the humanist nature of it made it more of a celebration of their lives as opposed to a memorial of their death. Emma was relieved when it was time for her and Jake to leave the chapel and get ready to meet the mourners—relieved, and yes, excited. The chapel had been pretty full, and the line of people waiting to shake hands and pass on their condolences seemed never-ending.

Names and faces passed them in a blur, and it was only when a striking man in his early fifties, with an elegant blonde lady, proffered his hand to Emma that she paid close attention. “Hello Emma, I’m Art; this is my wife Helen. We were friends of your parents. We were shocked to hear the news. It’s such a sad loss; they were both so full of life.”

Jake’s head jerked round at the sound of their names. He shook both their hands and studied their faces closely; they looked completely normal. Emma seemed slightly nervous shaking Art’s hand; Jake noticed it but didn’t think anything of it. The couple passed on without further hesitation and were replaced by more people whose names were on the list. They all appeared so normal, and surprisingly, thought Jake, their ages ranged from early thirties to late fifties.

Back at the wake, the time seemed to whiz by. Emma managed to keep her emotions in check, chatting with a host of people she didn’t really know that well—the relations—and those she didn’t know at all. The majority of people stayed just a short while before melting into the gathering gloom, and by the time it had got to six, everyone seemed to have left, save for a tight group in the conservatory. The people on the list were still there.

“Let us help you clear up,” said a stocky, red-faced man who introduced himself as Stan and his wife as Ruth. “You must be knackered; it’s the least we can do.” “Thank you,” Emma said. “That’s very kind. Most of the stuff can be binned; we’ve got plenty of black bags under the sink.” He was quickly joined by one of the other men; Emma thought she heard his name was Tony, but she couldn’t be sure. Jake was already collecting paper cups and napkins ready to bin them.

“Emma,” said the youngest of the women, “I’m Laura. Why don’t you leave the men to it? Come and sit down here.” She indicated a space on the settee beside her. Emma felt bushed, so she slumped down beside Laura. “Your parents were truly amazing people,” Laura leant closer to Emma, “truly amazing!” “Thank you,” said Emma. “To be honest, I’m finding out they weren’t the boring old farts I thought they were.” This brought a peal of laughter from the group. Laura touched Emma on the arm. “Oh, if only you knew the real story,” she whispered conspiratorially. Emma sat up straight. “Actually, I think I do know the real story.” She saw the reaction in Laura’s face and how the others sat forward in their seats. “I’ve read her diaries.” “Oh my,” the man sitting opposite Emma piped up, “I think we’ve been rumbled!”

Laura laughed. “You’re right there, Liam; it’s a fair cop. I think we’d better put our cards on the table.” She turned to face Emma and put her hands on Emma’s hands. “We’re the Club,” she said straight out. “We’re a group of people who meet up for some fun.” “I can guess the kind of fun you’re talking about,” said Emma quickly. “You are correct.” It was Stan who spoke, as he and Jake entered the room having finished bagging up the rubbish. He motioned to Jake, who had caught the last bit of the conversation and was looking a bit shocked, to take a seat. “Now is probably not the right time to tell you more, but we’ve lots to tell you, to fill in a bit about your parents’ lives as club members.”

Emma looked to Jake; he nodded. “No,” she said. “I’d rather know now. I’m not sure waiting will make a difference.” “Okay then,” said Laura. “As I said, we’re a club—a club of invited members who meet up in each other’s houses for evenings devoted to having fun—with each other. We have a number of rules.”

As I said, membership is by invite only.

It’s a joint membership for married couples only—no singles allowed.

The maximum number of members is ten couples.

Everything that happens at the club is fully consensual, and I mean fully consensual. We’re all adults, but each of us has limits we won’t exceed.

All activities at the club are confined to the party room. There is no sloping off for a private tête-à-tête! She giggled at this point.

Club nights are, in fact, evenings only. We impose a 1 a.m. curfew, and there is no sleeping over. Everyone goes to their own homes and their own beds to sleep!

If the behaviour of anyone of the club members exceeds what the others feel is acceptable, then that couple is excluded. End of!

“Now, I hope that gives you a better idea of the Club. Your parents have been members for almost fifteen years. It was founded by Art and Helen, and your parents were the fourth couple to be invited to join. People can leave the club whenever they want. Our members’ relationships are paramount; the club is meant to be a bit of bonus fun. If it is felt that a couple’s relationship is suffering by being members of the club, they will be asked to leave. There are now nine couples since your parents have sadly left us, so there’s currently a space to be filled.”

“But hang on just a minute!” It was Stan who spoke. “We realise that this is not the time for any hasty decisions. It’s true that we’re looking for a new couple to join us, but there’s no rush. We think that you and Jake would bring a bit of youth, to liven us old fogies up, but we totally understand if you’re not comfortable with the idea, or frankly think we’re just too old to party with. Take your time, think things over, talk about it. You’ve got Art and Helen’s number. Just give them a bell to let them know if you want to take things further.”

“Okay, everybody,” said Art. “Time to give these young people the time and space they need.” The club members got to their feet and, one by one, embraced Emma and Jake before taking their leave.

After they’d gone, Jake came back into the conservatory. “Oh my fucking god!” he exclaimed. “How weird was that?” “Weird!” replied Emma. “Weird indeed.” She had a far-away look on her face. Jake looked at her quizzically. “What are you thinking about, Em?” he said cautiously. “You’re not considering it, are you?” “I don’t know,” Emma said. “It feels pretty weird, scary even, but I don’t know—there’s something else, something I can’t put into words yet.” “Well, remember,” Jake retorted, “it has to be fully consensual, both parties in the marriage! And I’m knackered, so I’m going to bed.” He strode out of the room, leaving Emma with her thoughts. She had to admit, the idea of the club excited her. She and Jake had a great sex life; he was considerate, energetic, passionate, he satisfied her—but was there something else? Was something missing? She was confused. Clearly, Jake didn’t share her feelings—yet.

When she slipped naked into bed, Jake had his back to her. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “You can’t be seriously thinking about it, Em,” he turned to face her. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I can’t stop thinking about it, and it’s making me really horny. Horny for you!” “Well,” said Jake, “that’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard this evening.” He cradled her face with his hands and kissed her, deeply and passionately. “Tell me,” he said, “right now, what’s your fantasy?” Emma was shocked. She looked into Jake’s eyes and said, “You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Fair’s fair,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to have a threesome—me and two women—one of them you!” he added quickly. “Really,” Emma replied, drawing the syllables out. “I suppose that doesn’t really surprise me—isn’t that most men’s fantasy?” “No idea,” said Jake. “I just know it’s mine. Now then, Em, tell me your deepest, darkest fantasy.”

She bit her lip and put a finger to her mouth; she knew she was teasing him. “Well,” she whispered, “I can tell you it is most definitely not being fucked by a massive cock. I mean, that would just hurt.” She laughed, and Jake wiped his brow in mock relief. “I would like to be blindfolded, tied up, and then have someone make love to me. In silence. No conversation, so I wouldn’t know who it was. That would be really exciting. God, it’s making me wet just thinking about it!” “So,” teased Jake, “the idea of someone else making love to you excites you then?” “Yes,” Em whispered, chewing her bottom lip. “But I’m not sure if I’d want to know who it was. Maybe, maybe not. Right now though, I want you to make love to me.”

Jake pushed Emma onto her back, and his mouth went straight to her pert breasts; her nipples were already hard. He buried his head in her cleavage and ran his tongue down towards her navel. He explored it, making her squirm under him. Then he slid lower down her body until his mouth was at her sex. He kissed the tops of her thighs and used his hands to push them apart. He nibbled her lips with his teeth, causing her hips to buck up to meet him. His tongue found her slit, and he lapped at her juices which were already flowing copiously. He pushed his tongue inside her; she moaned in response and grasped his head with her hands and pushed him to her. Her clitoris was growing; his tongue flicked it slowly at first, then harder and faster, until she gasped in ecstasy and pulled his head up. He knew he only had to wait a few seconds for her to relax before he could continue. This time he lashed her with his tongue until she shuddered into a massive climax. “Fuck me, Jake,” she moaned. “Now. I want you to come inside me!” Jake was already rock hard, and he slid inside her, all the way. She could feel him deep within her. She could tell from the noises he was making that he wouldn’t last long. “Yes,” she said into his ear. “Yes, come for me, Jake. Fill me up. I want your release now.” Jake’s body went rigid, and he pushed as deep inside her as he could. He gave a long, low groan, and she felt him pulse inside her, once, twice, up to five times, as he emptied himself into her. She clasped him to her and kissed his face. “Thank you,” she said. “That was exactly what I needed!”

“Okay,” said Jake as he caught his breath. “That was amazing. I think I like the idea of you fantasising; it seems to work for both of us.” Doesn’t it just, thought Emma. Perhaps there was a way of convincing Jake about the Club after all.