Shitlady: "So are you going to keep telling FPH about our private lives?"
Sandow: "Just the humiliating stuff with fatties. Good thing I'm out of stories. For the most part, we've avoided the worst Sow Swingers."
Shitlady: "How about Eric the Red?"
Sandow: "Ugh. I'd successfully repressed that psychic scar. Thanks babe."
Shitlady "Tell FPH. Think of it as therapy."
My fit shitlady and myself heard about a big swingers party being held about an hour away and were excited to check it out. We'd only been swinging for a year or so, and this promised to be the largest party yet. For one thing, it had been advertised for about 3 months and the door fee was a cool $100 per couple. As I mentioned before, single women are free and single guys pay a lot as there is a limit on how many single guys are allowed. The party was located in an industrial complex with one of the empty stores being outfitted for everything a hundred or so horny swingers could imagine. No pool this time but multiple themed play rooms for (literal and figuartive) screwing around. One room was a dungeon with a solid oak Saint Andrew's Cross (wiki it) sporting various tie-downs. Another room was a 'hospital' equipped with surgical gowns, gurney with stirrups and examination table. What I was about to witness in this room ensured I'd never develop a nurse fetish.
The day arrives, we get decked out to score. Shitlady is wearing something that makes her look like a cross between a virginal cheerleader and hooker. She's got blood red spike heels that match her lipstick and has left any sense of decency at home. We find the place, park and go inside. Immediately inside the door we are greeted by a woman behind a table.
First thing I notice: she's ugly. Approaching the table, I then notice she's fat. I didn't know it then, but she was a type I'd see a lot of while swinging. Short. Dumpy. Pathtically trying to channel "Girls Gone Wild" but coming off "Hog Wild". She'd toss around a few BDSM terms, but was obviously unsure of what they mean, just like a banker trying to tell a mechanic how to fix his car. If you've fixed a computer for your grandmother, you'll know what I mean. Except instead of granny saying, "the tv part went off and then my internet was gone," imagine a Twinkie in a garter saying, "I love d/s leather with nipple clamps, the teasing is so hot and forbidden!" I gave her money, got my wristband to show I'd paid (I still feel those sweaty fingers as she put it on me. She slid her fingers over my hands trying to be sensual but it just felt like I was being licked by a cheeseburger) and we headed to the main room. But first, we encountered the host: Eric the Red.
Eric was a neckbeard. His pale skin was less Scandinavian and more "basement dweller." Instead of battle scars he had acne. He was about 40, dumptruck body and hairy like an orangutan who'd lost his tree in a divorce and really let himself go. Because his name was Eric and he had red hair, his nickname was obvious. Apparently the entry criteria for vikings have relaxed since the Middle Ages. Legend says that his parents died leaving him tons of cash which he uses to throw expensive swingers parties. I thought that he came up with the money by having no girlfriends until he was old enough to enjoy NPR.
But for every lonely Ham there's a Hamette destined to tie the knot with someone to share insulin with. Eric's bride was a woman called "Goddess" which explains why our Heavenly Father is a bachelor. She fit the term 'obese' hands down, as in she couldn't put her hands down but kept them stuck out to the side while she walked. She had long, stringy blond hair that fell to where I optimistically considered her waist would be. A black bustier completed the whole unpleasant package. Her hands rolled as she walked, like she was balancing on a tightrope. I didn't catch on why this was at first until I saw her shoes. She was wearing Crocks. Crocks to a fucking orgy. "I've got bad feet," she explained. I didn't ask if it was a condition or if she'd sprained a hoof. I didn't care.
I'll keep it short. We drink, rub up against new friends, fondle some nice couples and the night is going great. Eric is thirsty and is after my wife like she's been sprinkled with bacon and served at the state fair. Shitlady is a cruel woman and loves attention and mocking hopeless Globs. Face it babe, it's true. So she keeps flirting and teasing this ham until even his wife starts to get irritated. He's following her around from playroom to playroom like a diabetic puppy. Looking hopeful and bashful at the same time. All the while, he keeps doing this thing with his tongue. On a human, it would be the universal sign of licking pussy. On Eric it looks like he's trying to get peanut butter off the roof of his mouth. Whenever the music dies down I can hear him telling my wife how good he is at giving oral. He can eat a pussy for hours on end, he says. "No shit," I think.
Now there is no general rule that says hosts/hostesses can't get freaky with guests, but they are usually too busy making sure everyone is safe and having a good time for them to get their rocks off with new friends. But Eric feels a glimmer of hope spring to life somewhere in his blubber and he wants my wife more than a second helping of birthday cake, and his duties as host fly out the window. His wife is left to run the show and she's not happy about it. Every time our paths cross, she glares at him and tries to yank him back to the front of the party. It's a good strategy, but a horny ham won't be denied. For all his bulk, he manages to escape and reappear wherever we are. Finally Goddess has had enough. She gets the three of us in the hospital room and pulls the curtain closed behind us, effectively sealing off any escape for her husband or us.
Dammit. I didn't mean to type so long. It's late and I'll conclude this tomorrow. Yeah, I'm a bastard but I really didn't plan to leave anyone hanging. It if helps, my next post will be the last for "The Obeast at the Orgy". I like swinging and don't want to give it a bad name, but anyone wanting to explore open relationships should be prepared for what can happen now that hams have invaded the scene in some areas.