Swingers 3 Read online

  “She’s just through those doors on reception, go in and surprise her.” I felt bad about dropping them on Marie, but at least she was behind a reception desk and couldn’t be molested and I had to get them away from me somehow. June released her vice-like grip on my privates and walked through to reception with Kenny.

  “See you in a bit,” said Kenny as he went inside. ‘ Not if I can help it’ I thought. These two were our nemesis. They were the second couple we had ever met and used our naivety to use and abuse us for their own pleasure, but that was a long time ago and my fear now was that they would try and do the same with our new couples. We could not allow that to happen. I had to find a way to stop them seeking out and abusing our newbies.

  I looked through the glass door to reception. Marie was smiling through gritted teeth. She looked up, caught my eye and beckoned me inside. Oh my God, I had just got rid of them and Marie was passing them back again.

  “Would you mind giving Kenny and June a guided tour?” asked Marie sweetly. Yes, I bloody well would mind. I would rather be locked up in a cage full of sex starved gorillas than spend the next ten minutes with those two morons.

  “No problem,” I answered just as sweetly, “just follow me.” The club was filling up fast and I could see Kenny and June giving everyone the once over, especially the younger couples. I rushed them around the tour, not giving them enough time to interact with anyone. There was no one in the Karma Sutra room so I lingered there for a while, stalling for time.

  “You know the last time we saw you two was in London, remember Mistress Marietta’s Dungeon,” I said.

  “How could I forget,” said Kenny, “that crazy bitch damaged me internally.”

  “Really!” I said, trying to fake concern.

  “Yeah, she fucked up my sphincter. When we got back home the following day I had to go to casualty.”

  “Never!” I said, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

  “What did they say?”

  “One of them said it looked as though a train had been up my jacksey, or words to that effect.” I gave a muzzled laugh but managed to disguise it with a cough.

  “What did you tell them?” I asked.

  “Told ’em the truth, that some lunatic Spanish bint had shagged my arse with a fuckin’ great dildo.” This would have been entirely consistent with Kenny. He would have felt no shame or embarrassment or humiliation like the rest of us. In his selfish world he was the victim and deserved sympathy from everyone, even the doctors and nurses at casualty. He went on, “All the elasticity in my arsehole has gone, I can’t hold it in like I used too.” I almost felt sorry for him until June butted in.

  “Never mind Ken, we’ll find some fresh meat for you tonight.”

  “Ok, on with the tour eh,” I said quickly. As we descended the stairs from the play rooms to the lounge I scoured the crowd. I was looking for a couple who could handle Kenny and June. It was not going to be easy; as sexual predators go these two were in the premier league, I needed a couple who would not be bullied and would not fall for their bullshit. We had some hardened swingers in at that time but none of them were as cynical in their approach to swinging as Kenny and June.

  The shame of it was that neither Kenny nor June could be called unattractive, it was their personalities that let them down and their incessant quest for their own pleasure above all else. If they had a more becoming outlook on the lifestyle then they would have been much more successful as swingers. But it was never going to happen; they were stuck in their ways and would never change. As I surveyed our members a smile swept across my face; I had seen the couple I needed. Paul and Maxine were a Geordie couple who had been coming to the club almost from day one. They were experienced swingers who did not suffer fools, plus there were no airs and graces and false egos with them either. What you saw is what you got, if any couple could handle Kenny and June, Paul and Maxine could. We walked over to them.

  “Hi you two,” I said. “I would like to introduce a couple of old friends of ours.”

  “Ah, fresh meat!” said Paul jokingly and held out his hand. Kenny looked a bit taken aback but June, true to form, went over and grabbed Paul’s balls.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said, looking directly into Paul’s eyes.

  “I like this lady,” said Paul as he slipped his hand down the top of June’s low cut dress. Maxine, not to be left out, plunged her hand down the front of Kenny’s trousers. He gave a little high pitch squeak and that inane grin returned to his face.

  “I think we speak the same language,” he said, cupping Maxine’s boobs in both hands. These two couples were made for each other, no small talk, no standing on ceremony, no foreplay, perfect. After a couple more minutes groping each other they all sat down together at a table, laughing and joking.

  Marie & Friends in the pool at La Chambre

  Barry, Marie and Jerry Springer at Hedonism

  Halloween group at La Chambre

  White Night at La Chambre

  Marie and Joy floating in the Caribbean at Hedo

  I left Kenny and June in Paul and Maxine’s capable hands and went back to reception, safe in the knowledge that for now at least our newbies were safe. Marie was waiting to have a go. “Why did you send those two to me?”

  “Well I could hardly turn them away, anyway I’ve got them together with Paul and Maxine. Marie’s expression changed: “Oh, in that case,” she smiled and kept on booking people in.

  It turned out that Kenny and June got a real going over in the dark room from Paul and Maxine and another couple who joined in. There was no way they were going to have their own way in this session and they got well and truly shagged every which way. They came back to the club a few times over the next year or so but then drifted away. We never let them get near our newbies and I think they got fed up of coming up against our frontline experienced swingers. On their third visit I gave the lady of one of our couples a dildo and told her to concentrate on Kenny’s arse, not very sporting I know but it did the trick and that was the last time we saw them. It was fresh meat they craved but we made sure they never got it at La Chambre.

  CHAPTER 7

  Dirty Girls and Kinky Guys

  Around the New Year of 2000, a couple of single ladies were attending the club on a regular basis. Neither of them could be called attractive, but what they lacked in the looks department they made up for in their enthusiasm for the club. They became known as Pinky and Perky. Friday was their main night, they would shag their way through the guys, then Pinky would perform her speciality on one of the single guys. It was called an all over body lick, and when I say all over, I mean all over; every crevice, every crease, every nook and cranny. The lucky, or some would say unlucky, bloke would definitely not need a shower after one of Pinky’s licks. Perky, not to be left out, had her own party piece. She could fire ping-pong balls from out of her fanny, not just one but three at a time and they didn’t just dribble out, they shot out like a bat out of a cave. Sometimes as a double act Pinky would catch them in her mouth.

  There was not much culture with Pinky and Perky and their talents were unrefined to say the least, but they were a likeable twosome and they had been on at me for sometime to let them do a show in the club. Marie had cautioned against it, saying they were too unpredictable, but after weeks of badgering I relented and said they could put on a performance. I advertised it in the club for two weeks beforehand as a ‘two girl spectacular.’ It would turn out to be even more spectacular than anyone could have imagined. They had decided that the show would consist of Pinky using a variety of dildos on Perky, culminating in Perky firing not three but five ping-pong balls out of her fanny.

  On the chosen Friday night and with a packed crowd waiting eagerly, they made their entrance. We had placed a small massage bed on the stage for Perky to lay on, with her head towards the mirror and her nether regions facing the audience. Pinky stood at the side with her collection of dildos, ranging from the handbag-size take anywhere
range to the whopping great fanny splitter. Not that Perky was tight down there, she had a vagina that had seen better days, but I digress. John, our new DJ, put on some sexy music and the show began. The first few dildos Pinky inserted almost got lost, so she skipped the middle sized ones and went straight to the big stuff. When the big black donger went in it looked a bit dry, so Pinky liberally poured half a bottle of lubricant over it. Now she was on a roll, plunging the giant dildo in and pulling it almost all the way out, before plunging it back in again. With all the extra lube it had all got a bit slippery and on one of the withdrawals the donger slipped out of Perky’s fanny, dropped a little and went straight up her arse on the next insertion. Perky gave a yell and gripped the side of the massage bed like she was giving birth. Of course the audience loved it and began cheering Pinky on, “Deeper, harder, deeper, harder.” The front row of the crowd moved forward for a better look and kept chanting for more effort from Pinky, who duly obliged by ramming the giant dildo in and out of poor Perky’s backside at a phenomenal speed.

  I could see Perky was gritting her teeth and beads of sweat began to glisten on her forehead. She was holding on for dear life as her best friend violated her back passage. Pinky on the other hand was basking in her new found fame and played to the audience by thrusting in and out even harder. Just as I was about to stop it, fearing permanent damage to Perky’s rectum, Pinky gave a final almighty plunging thrust then pulled it all the way out of Perky in one swift movement. But as the dildo came out it was followed by a big, brown, glistening turd that shot out of Perky’s arse like an exocet missile. The suction had built up so much that she had lost all bowel control. The turd flew out at such a speed it took a few moments for the cheering crowd to realise what it was. It landed in the middle of the dance floor and skidded a yard or so through the feet of the onlookers.

  “It’s a turd!” someone shouted and the stampede began. People were running everywhere to escape. Miraculously, no one stepped on it as it lay there like an unexploded torpedo, shimmering under the disco lights. Meanwhile, Perky was groaning noisily.

  “Fucking hell!” she said to Pinky, “What have you done to my arse?” We helped her bow-legged to the toilet and at least two smaller turds fell out before we got there. After that, Marie banned them from doing any more shows, not that there was much public demand for a repeat performance.

  Marion and Jim were an older couple who had become members after the News of the World had kindly alerted them to our whereabouts. Although well into their fifties, they still danced the night away with the rest and Jim was into a bit of cock torture.

  “He’s a kinky old sod, but if he wants his cock whipping I don’t mind, gets rid of my frustrations,” she laughed. They were Saturday nighters and Jim’s fetish nearly turned sour one weekend when he had told Marion to tie up his cock and balls with some thick rubber banding. Marion and another woman had set to work tying up his wedding tackle. All was going well until Jim had said he’d had enough and to take it off. They had tied it so tight it was impossible to undo.

  More and more people became involved, but try as they may no one could get it off. I was downstairs talking with Marie when someone came running up to us.

  “Jim’s in trouble,” they said, “you had better come quick.”

  He was in the mirrored room surrounded by onlookers and we had to push our way through. He lay flat out, sweating like the proverbial pig, his balls dark purple, in fact they reminded me of two chocolate eggs still in the wrappers. His dick was rock hard and blood red, the veins standing out like blue motorways on a road map. The elastic was so tight that it was almost embedded in his skin.

  Marion was in tears, “It’s been like this for half an hour now, I think his cock is going to fall off.” I thought that it looked ready to explode rather than fall off, but I kept that thought to myself. Marie took over by trying to dig her nails under the rubber band, which only brought a scream from poor old Jim.

  “Marion, you stupid cow,” cried Jim, “why did you have to knot it?” He’s got a point there, I thought, nobody in their right mind would put a knot in rubber especially when it’s tied around someone’s dick.

  Marion was taking it badly. “If his cock and balls fall off, I’ll never forgive myself!” she sobbed to Marie. Someone suggested calling an ambulance, to which Jim shouted, “No fucking ambulance, just get it off me for fuck’s sake.”

  By now his cock and balls were so discoloured they looked like they did not belong to his body and another half an hour and they probably wouldn’t have. It called for drastic measures, so with some sharp nosed scissors Marie snipped steadily at the rubber until finally it exploded off him. Jim gave an “Ahhhh ooooo errrr” and then “Thank God for that.” It took almost an hour for his cock and balls to return to their normal colour. Marion swore she would never tie them up again.

  The membership back then was different to today. Firstly they were older, the average would have been forty something whereas today it’s more like thirty something. Also, back then the vast majority were full on swingers. Today we range from the experienced swingers to the newbie and all stages in between. It’s also strange to think that not one of the members we had in those first two years still come to the club today, they have all drifted off into the sands of time. It’s bizarre to consider that some of our members today would have been children or young teenagers when all this was happening back in the late nineties or around the millennium. We are responsible for corrupting a whole generation ‘...oh well,’ back to the story.

  By far the oldest people ever to walk through the doors were a local couple called Frank and Lilley, who were seventy eight and seventy six. They would attend about once a month usually on a Friday night, dressed in matching leather harnesses, go upstairs and Lilley would put out for as many guys who wanted it. Surprisingly, lots of guys did. She was no oil painting and looked her age, but the young guys loved her. Frank mostly just watched, although I did see him getting a blow job off a pretty young thing once, the smile on his face was a picture.

  We were now high profile and that brought its drawbacks. We got a letter from a church ladies’ coffee group saying they were praying for our souls, then a phone call from an obscure religious sect in America asking if we wanted to amalgamate, God knows what they had in mind. We were also receiving a couple of requests a week from various top shelf magazines for articles and interviews which we did, it was all good publicity.

  Then the mainstream women’s magazines began calling us. We were wary about those as they could portray us in a bad light. OK! Magazine were adamant they would not do that, so we relented and along with three other willing couples from the club did a full days shoot at a country hotel. We all did interviews and posed for photos. We still had our doubts, but they were true to their word when it appeared a month later. For the first time ever a mainstream publication represented swingers as normal human beings, no sensationalism, no lurid wording. It was a breakthrough and we felt that we had gained a small measure of acceptance.

  The phone call that changed everything came a week after OK! Magazine had gone on the newsagent stands. The call not only changed our lives forever, but proved to be the catalyst for a new and exciting age for the whole swinging community of Great Britain.

  CHAPTER 8

  La Chambre on Nationwide Television

  The lady on the other end of the phone sounded friendly enough. She was a researcher from London Weekend Television and was exploring the possibility, as she put it, that LWT could film a documentary about La Chambre. My initial reaction was alarm; this was a set up, they may want to portray us as degenerates and perverts, compulsive viewing for the masses. Even though the News of the World had inadvertently been very beneficial for us, we did not fancy being made scapegoats on nationwide television. I discussed it with Marie that evening and we decided to meet with them and try to at least ascertain what their intentions were.

  Two days later we were sat in a service station just n
orth of junction 30 on the M1, waiting to meet the production team for London Weekend Television. We had decided to let them do the talking. When people are allowed to monopolise a conversation they invariably let slip any hidden agendas they may have.

  They arrived in a big, black American style four-wheel drive. There were four of them; Sandy, the researcher whom I had spoken to on the phone, Ben the producer and two guys called Ian and Terry, camera and lighting men. The first thing that struck us was their age; they were all so young. I reckon Ben would have been the eldest at about the thirty mark. I don’t know why but we had expected them to be experienced older people in their forties and fifties, not twenty somethings. We have since learned that this is the norm in the television industry; the vast majority of people working there are between twenty and forty, and at forty you are considered a dinosaur.

  Sandy came over and shook hands before introducing the team. We ordered coffee, hamburger and fries all round and picked a table by the window as our office to talk.

  “What is it that you want to do?” I asked. Sandy and Ben did most of the talking. They wanted to do a day in the life kind of documentary about the club, about us, about swinging. Their aim, said Ben, was not to sensationalise it but, show it as it is. We had brought swinging out into the open after years of stigmatism and lies. Sandy stressed that it was now time to show people the truth. We had broken the mould by doing the article for OK! Magazine and now Ben said it was time to take the next step.

  They talked for over two hours and we listened, but we did not pick up on any signs of subterfuge. On the contrary, they seemed eager to learn as much as they could about the lifestyle and the people in it, even promising to sign an agreement stating that they would not portray La Chambre or us in a negative way. So, on our third cup of coffee we shook hands. Filming would begin in one week’s time.