CHAPTER 3: MY SEX DATE WITH A FORMER HAWAIIAN BEAUTY QUEEN

MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, Part 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010

CHAPTER 3: MY SEX DATE WITH A FORMER HAWAIIAN BEAUTY QUEEN

October 21

A few days later, a woman who called herself Leilani, left a response to my ad looking to meet.

“I saw your ad. I wanted to know if you wanted to have some fun,” her message went. “I am thirty and curvy. Call me at 213 446-7892.”

I listened to her message a number of times and debated whether I would respond. However, my horniness soon enough overcame my doubts. It's my typical dilemma -- common sense and good judgment vs. lust. Seems like lust always wins out in the end.

October 23

I talked to Leilani on the phone today. She sounded extremely nervous and evasive. I figured this must be her first time doing something like this, but I didn’t ask her. She already seemed anxious enough about it. I didn't want to put her off.

She told me nervously that she was just looking for some fun, but didn’t elaborate on her definition of fun. I tried to make her feel at ease by reassuring her that I was looking for the same. I asked her what turned her on and she just said pleasure. Leilani wouldn’t talk about her desires or needs at all, and avoided saying anything directly about sex. It was not exactly a hot and sexy conversation.

“What do you look like?” I asked dreading her response.

She admitted she is a big woman weighing about 190 pounds. “Is that OK with you?” she added hesitantly.

My heart sank, but what was I going to say? I couldn’t turn her down for that. I’ve always been secretly attracted to fat women. I don’t know why. Maybe because it is such a taboo in a society obsessed with weight and achieving the perfect body. Or maybe I just like the thought of easy pussy from desperate women.

“Sure. I like women of all sizes,” I told her and I wasn’t lying. Really.

Frankly, I have some sobering thoughts about her resembling an enormous Sumo female wrestler or some circus freak and I am considering calling it off.

I am beyond horny, though. I have developed permanent blisters on my palms from taking care of myself too much, and I am tired of it. I want to feel the touch of a woman again. My standards will have to be discarded for a night. I can’t wait any longer to get laid. I am drowning in my own come. Nothing relieves my hungry lusts. I am so bored of jacking off to porno films. It just makes things worse when you’re horny and lonely. That’s hyperreality sex anyway. I mean come on. Where do you find uninhibited women like that in real life who will do everything you can imagine sexually? Isn’t this what my sexual quest was all about: to find those kind of wild women? Maybe Leilani was one. Who knows? So I am determined to end my dry run.

October 24

The next night I drove to meet Leilani at an ugly brown stucco house located off Santa Monica Boulevard on the outskirts of Beverly Hills.

She told me it is the residence of an elderly woman she is taking care of. Leilani works as a live-in nurse, and her patient was visiting relatives so we had the house to ourselves.

As I walked up the driveway toward the house, a stocky Samoan woman opened the front door and nervously asked me if I was Jake. She didn’t lie on the phone. Leilani is a big woman, and honestly she could have been a Sumo wrestler in training. She is short about five feet tall and I figure weighs more than 200 pounds. She had put her black hair in a bun, which only emphasized her large face and features.

She led me inside the house and into a dimly lit ornately furnished living room. Leilani flashed her smile at me for a moment -- quite literally -- both of her front teeth had garish gold caps. After seeing that, I had a strong urge to leave. Up close, I also realized she is older than she said on the phone. Wrinkles around her eyes made her appear to be in her late forties maybe even early fifties.

Leilani wore a turquoise dress that was too small for her and her black stockings also seemed out of place on such a huge woman. She kept fidgeting with her dress and appeared uncomfortable. She was no doubt a fuck date virgin. Yet she could have been hornier than I was. She had dressed up for the occasion and obviously wanted something to happen on this night even though I could tell this was a situation unfamiliar to her.

I had fucked worse (at least I think I have), but was this how I wanted to start my journey? Fucking an obese woman? Although I was horny, I still wondered if I could do anything sexually. It was one thing to fantasize about fucking a stranger, but it was another thing to actually go through with it especially with a woman this big.

I felt awkward, too, but struggled not to show it. What had I got myself into? Despite my misgivings, she actually did attract me. Most of my friends would die laughing if they knew I even considered fucking this behemoth, but my cock had other ideas. I felt a glimmer of desire as I looked her over. I had fantasized about fucking Hawaiian women, but those were usually the ones you see in Playboy pictorials or tourist photos. They were all much prettier not to mention thinner than Leilani.

Well, as my dad used to advise me when I was growing up: “You got to start somewhere.” However, I don’t think he had someone as heavy as Leilani in mind when he said it.

We stood in the dark living room and struggled to make small talk. I didn’t sense any real hot chemistry between us. I thought I better figure out a quick excuse to leave in case this went south. I didn’t want to waste too much time if I wasn’t going to get laid. So I asked her what she wanted to do. She smiled awkwardly at me and said anxiously once again that she just wanted to have fun.

“OK,” I said. “Where do you want to go?"

She glanced at me pensively and then silently led me to a sparsely furnished room at the back of the house that had a bed. As Leilani turned her back to me and faced a mirror next the bed, I watched her undo her hair clip and let her long black hair flow down. I took it as a signal to make my move. Despite my nervousness (my hands were shaking for fuck’s sake), I slid up behind her and kissed her neck. She smelled good which got me hot.

Leilani turned around to face me and we kissed briefly. Her lips were dry and rough. Leilani then grabbed the back of my head and kissed me aggressively. She seemed starved for affection, any kind of affection. I gently pushed her on to the bed and rubbed my body against hers. She is enormous, and I didn’t know where to start, but I was aroused. My cock throbbed in my jeans.

Leilani sat up on the bed and started removing her dress, stockings and panties revealing her huge naked body. Her large breasts sagged and drooped against her flabby enormous stomach, and her huge nipples hung down like small dark sagging heads. I tried not to look too closely at her flabby nakedness. I asked her to lie back on the bed and went down on her. I hoped my oral skills could be the ultimate icebreaker and turn around this sorry sexual adventure. She has big brown pussy lips and matted black pussy hair. Her pussy looked strange and misshapen, and I had difficulty locating her clit. So I took the plunge and braced myself for a bitter pussy licking experience, but I was pleasantly surprised as she didn’t taste harsh at all.

In response to my attentions, she began making deep grunting sounds followed by wheezing moans and sighs.

“It has been a long time…ooooo…a long timeeeee,” Leilani exclaimed. “Make me come…make me come…make me come. “ She kept repeating that phrase like a sexual mantra as I licked her faster.

Listening to her pleasure got me aroused, too. However, I realized too late that I was enjoying myself a bit too much. I got so excited I came hard in my pants while my tongue probed her pussy. I had already shot my wad much to my shock and disappointment. I was quickly overcome by what I can only describe as “post-come depression”. I didn’t want to tongue out her pussy anymore. I felt tired and empty, and suddenly I just wanted to leave even though I had only been there for 10 or 15 minutes.

I tried pretending that I was still aroused and interested in eating her pussy, but it was no use. I had lost my desire. I was hoping she hadn’t noticed as I continued tonguing her pussy until she told me to stop. I didn’t ask if she had come. I really didn’t care at that point. My sexual fire was gone and I was frustrated with myself. This what happens when you don’t get laid enough. Just eating pussy is enough for me to get off. I have no self-control right now. I need more sex to build up some kind of sexual stamina.

Shortly after my premature ejaculation (in my pants!) episode, we were both lying naked on the bed and she started sucking on my cock. Maybe she noticed I had come, but she didn’t let on. For the life of me, though, I couldn’t get hard for her.

Leilani looked up at me for a moment and asked me if I wanted to fuck her doggy style. Now, she had my flaccid cock in her mouth and yet she still thought I could do it. I had to admire her for that. She turned around and stuck her ass out for rear entry. There it was in all its enormous glory: her huge flabby ass, which was anything but inviting. There was so much ass I couldn’t see her pussy. Didn’t matter, though. I grabbed a hold of my limp cock aggressively and tried to fuck her in vain. It was ridiculous. My cock was useless. It was a flat tire, a deflated balloon. It was a dead cock hanging.

She looked back at me, grinning with her gold teeth, and mumbled softly, “We aren’t going to fuck are we?”

She didn’t seem angry, but I detected some frustration in her voice. Leilani had probably waited a long time to connect with someone, anyone. I was not exactly fulfilling her fantasy with my limp cock. I tried not to think about it and rested back on the bed as I was at a loss for words.
Perhaps sensing this, Leilani lay down next to me on the bed and proceeded to describe her former life in Hawaii. It was too early to go home so I had no choice but to listen. The trick was to pretend that I was interested. She hardly noticed. I think she liked listening to the sound of her own voice.

When she was 20, she had been a beauty queen in Hawaii even showing me the pictures as proof. In one of the photos, a much younger and thinner version of Leilani was featured posing in a bathing suit during a beauty competition. She was very attractive. What happened? She had really let herself go. I looked at her closely and tried to find traces of the beauty queen in her plump face and body, but little of her former self remained. Her eyes are still pretty as in the pictures, but there’s sadness in them now. Things obviously hadn’t turned out as she expected.

As she told it, everything went downhill after her beauty pageant days. She got married and had two kids and was later divorced. Out of depression and loneliness, she turned to food for solace and soon her weight got out of control.

It had been more than three years since she had been with a man sexually. Then she admitted sheepishly that she is 49, which I already guessed was true.

She has a lot strikes against her: her size, her age, but still I liked her. At least, she didn’t bust my balls about not being able to fuck her. Still, I wasn’t leaving until I penetrated her pussy with my cock. It was a matter of pride for me.

While she talked about her past, my cock gradually came back to life. I slid my hands down her large belly and groped for her pussy. I played with her clit and finger fucked her, and then I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and stuck them in her mouth. Leilani hungrily sucked on my fingers and smiled at me.

I was feeling anxious and wanted to fuck her before I lost my erection so I crawled on top of her large body and tried unsuccessfully to enter her. I was hard enough, but she was just too tight. I couldn’t seem to part her lips. She reached down and grabbed my cock and after some effort I slid inside of her. Unfortunately, I quickly shot my load following several thrusts into her tight pussy. I lasted a whopping twenty seconds. Just call me lightning. Typically, I had more staying power after my first orgasm, but that was before my recent dry spell.

As I rolled off of her, I apologized for my lack of stamina. Much to my surprise, Leilani blamed my quick trigger on her pussy being so tight.

“I am sorry. I haven’t had sex for a long time. I am too tight,” she said grinning and acting embarrassed.

Incredible, I thought. She is apologizing for being too tight. A woman can never be too tight.

We talked for a while longer and then my post-come depression returned. I was restless and wanted to leave as she rambled on about her family in Long Beach (where there is a large Samoan community), her failed marriage with her ex-husband and how much she missed sex. I smiled and pretended to care, but I knew I didn’t want to spend the night with her. I was already bored and I didn’t think I could fuck her again.

Finally, when I couldn’t listen to her bullshit anymore, I blurted out that I had to get up early in the morning for work. I lied. I had taken the day off from work anticipating spending the whole night with her. Now that was not an option. I felt suffocated in that small bedroom listening to her talk about her lonely life.

She briefly gave me a sad look and then quickly covered it up with a smile, but I knew she wanted to keep talking and fucking all night. Her dry spell had been a lot longer than mine and she was no doubt hoping to finally avoid another lonely night.

I reached over and touched her arm and told her I’d call her again. She nodded and said it was all right, but I knew it wasn’t. I told her a second time that I would call her, but got the feeling she didn’t believe me. Honestly, I doubted if I would. Now, that I got my rocks off I wondered what was I thinking? She wasn’t the girl of my fantasies. How hard up could I be to fuck her? I felt pathetic. I was in the throes of my post-come let down and I had to get out of there fast.

Leilani walked me to the door and kissed me goodnight. She gave me one final look of disappointment and shut the door. I left feeling mixed up and confused. I was glad I had ended my pussy drought after so long, but I felt guilty about her sadness. I had been given more of a glimpse into her lonely existence than I had wanted to.

It was a strange sort of intimacy between us – short but also tinged with a depressing desperation. Our sexual encounter should have made me feel less alone, but instead it had the opposite effect. I wanted nothing to do with her desperation. I had enough of my own to deal with. She also bored me to death and was hardly hot in bed. I couldn’t bear to call her again.

CHAPTER TWO -- THE JOURNEY BEGINS: LUST IN THE WANT ADS

MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, Part 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010

Chapter 2: THE JOURNEY BEGINS: LUST IN THE WANT ADS

October 2

I am so horny tonight. It feels like come is pushing against the back of my eyeballs and threatening to drip out of my ears.

I haven’t been laid in more than a year since I dumped my former girlfriend Lani. At the time, it seemed like a good idea as she was driving me crazy with her whiny and clingy ways. I don’t how I stayed with her for six months. That is a long time for me, and honestly she really wasn’t all that much to look at -- a short and fat dumpy looking woman in her late twenties with a large nose marred by an ugly wart. If that wasn’t bad enough, she has two bratty kids that did their best to annoy me.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. Lani loved to fuck three or four times a night especially after snorting cocaine and I have to admit the sex was incredible. When she was high on coke, she became oblivious to everything but her cravings and desires. I was a just a hard cock along for the ride. I realized after a while that she used sex to mask deep emotional problems rooted in a neglected childhood and later abusive relationships with former boyfriends.

The more I pushed her away, the greater her sexual desire. Her sexual appetite bordered on addiction. Yet our strong physical connection wasn’t enough for her after a while. After five months of dating, she wanted to get married. I told her I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship and she flipped out. She clung to our relationship with a needy desperation, and there’s nothing sexy about neediness. I don’t care what anyone says. I felt suffocated and I finally broke it off with her. Frankly, I miss the sex, but I don’t miss her clingy desperation and incessant whining.

Following our breakup, I hit the bars near my apartment in Long Beach’s Belmont Shore looking for sex. All I found was a hangover and a strong dose of sexual frustration. It has been the same most of my adult life. I have always been far too timid in the pursuit of women. I freeze up, and I still haven’t been able to completely shake off my shyness. In a bar setting, I am the guy a woman notices from across the room, but who almost never makes a move. I flirt with my eyes, but fail with weak small talk. This is my weakness. I have no gift of gab, and I need to get laid badly. This urge is starting to become an obsession with me. Almost every morning I wake up with a throbbing hard on and I have to jack off to get some kind of relief. It is getting worse. I haven’t been with a woman in so long I am starting to forget what it feels like. The porno movies don’t help. They give me a hungry sex fever that even masturbation can’t seem to quell. I tried to stop watching them, but I can’t resist. I guess jacking off to pornos is better than no sex life at all. Pathetic. That’s how I feel.

There has to be another way to meet women who just want to fuck. I usually meet women through work or through friends, but they all seem to want to entangle me in another frustrating relationship. I am so tired of all that bullshit. All I want is the sex of my dreams without the headache and stress. All I crave is no-strings fucking. Is that too much to ask for?
Nothing excites me more than giving pleasure to a woman, and just exploring her desires and fantasies. However, I don’t want the same woman forever. That road unfortunately leads to boredom and unhappiness -- at least in my case. There has to be another more exciting sex life out there for me.

So earlier this afternoon, I bought an L.A. Express newspaper. It is one of those sex rags that are sold in old, rusty newspaper racks usually located in front of post offices or liquor stores. Typically, the cover of the news rack is so dirty that you can barely see what is in there except for a faded image of a scantily clad woman on the cover. I wanted to check out the nasty personal ads that were advertised on the front page of the rags. There are classifieds for everything from cars and apartments to computers and romance. Then there are the classifieds for sex, swinging in particular. I call them fuck ads. Sometimes fuck ads can be found in mainstream newspapers with the advertiser’s real intentions disguised in clever language. You just need to know how to read between the lines.

Mostly, though, sex ads are featured in swinger rags, alternative newspapers such as the Express or even the LA Weekly and now the Internet. The Express is crammed full of erotic ads soliciting 900 numbers and datelines. The headlines clamored for my sexual satisfaction with salacious invitations such as…

NAUGHTY NURSE WILL TAKE CARE OF YOUR ILLS...ASIAN BEAUTY SEEKS TO
TAKE YOU ON AN EASTERN ADVENTURE…TAKE A SIP OF HENNESEY AND FEEL HOW I GO DOWN…FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELT, DANGEROUS CURVES AHEAD…TAWNY, NEW IN TOWN AND SHAVED…PLAYTIME IS OVER BOYS…LOOKING FOR SOME REAL MEN, CALL SUMMER…HOT LATINA IS YOUNG, NAÏVE AND EAGER TO PLEASE…DO YOU LIKE THE TASTE OF HOT CHOCOLATE? CALL TANISHA…

I realized finding these naughty women was one thing, but seducing them was something else. I needed to come up with a way to express my desires up front without offending the women I wanted to meet for sex.

After several glasses of wine, my sexual frustration got the best of me and I called almost every number in the magazine. Unfortunately, all I found were call girls. “In or out?” they would ask me. I thought it was obvious, but what they meant is should I go to their place or should they come to mine. It was strictly a money deal. The magazine was a front for prostitution. What a fucking let down. It was all fucking fake. I don’t want to have to pay for it as that takes all the fun out it for me. I want the person I fuck to WANT to be there. I don’t want our sex together to be her fucking job as most of us hate our jobs. Why should it be any different with call girls?

Even after all that, I still held out hope that the Express could be an effective sleazy vehicle to use for my initial foray into the tenuous world of casual sex. However, I decided I would have the horny women come to me. Later on that night, after I had sobered up a bit, I sent my own ad to the Express. A couple days later, I got myself a second phone line so no one -- not my family, friends or co-workers -- would know what I was up to. I could only imagine the embarrassment if someone I knew saw my ad and recognized my phone number. My friends and co-workers would tease me endlessly. My family wouldn’t understand and would worry something bad would happen to me. Discretion seems the better part of valor in this case. I also don’t want anyone to know how truly desperate I am. I can’t hold out much longer. I need to be inside of a woman again soon.

My ad went like this:

SEEKING HORNY WOMEN

Tall SWM 32 is seeking hot and wet horny women for erotic adventure. Age and race unimportant. Love to give pleasure to a woman. Love 69 and mutual satisfaction. Call Jake. 562 487-2023

My ad is hardly subtle and OK I lied about my age, but at least I am upfront about what I am looking for. Pussy with no hassle. Sex with no bullshit. But would it fly with the ladies?

October 11

My ad has been in the Express for a week now and there has been absolutely no response. It’s depressing. I am starting to have mixed feelings about the whole thing. Still, a part of me is also somewhat relieved. I really don’t know what I am going to do when someone calls. I am at war with my hormones. My need for pussy without strings is in conflict with my fear of rejection and my basically timid nature. I become extremely nervous when calling a woman I have met for a date. Yet this is different. This is a woman who I will be calling for sex. I will have to seduce her on the phone, and I am not sure if I really know what to say. I have overwhelming doubts that I can go through with this.

October 17

I ran my ad for a second week and finally got a response: Judy from Woodland Hills. She left her number on my answering machine and said she screened her calls because her ex-husband was harassing her. She sounded uptight and nervous. Her message didn’t exactly light a fire in me. I am hesitant to call her. I have thoughts of me fucking Judy and her husband stalking us and watching us have sex. Maybe even he is one of those psycho stalkers who will try to kill us out of jealousy. I read about them all the time in the news. Seems like dicey situation. So with some reluctance (and pangs of horny doubt) I decided not to call her back. I need sex not drama. I am hardly off to a swinging start.

October 18

Things didn’t improve much the next day. I received what amounted to the first bad review of my ad. It came from a woman who left a snotty and hostile message on my answering machine saying my ad would only attract “fat and ugly women.” Was she an advertiser of the magazine? Or maybe a slighted call girl feeling cheated out of a potential customer?
I have to admit her response has troubled me. Could she be right? Would I only find fat and ugly women? Was I wasting my time?

CHAPTER ONE -- MONOGAMY SUCKS

MONOGAMY SUCKS, A SWINGER’S TALE, PART 1
By George Pappas, COPYRIGHT, 2010

CHAPTER ONE -- MONOGAMY SUCKS

BELMONT SHORE
LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

Monogamy sucks.

I came to this sobering realization shortly after my thirty-fifth birthday. I had recently ended a dissatisfying relationship with yet another girlfriend because I was sexually restless and convinced I was missing out on something. This had become the frustrating pattern of my love life. Initially, I was enthralled with a new relationship, but typically after several months (sometimes weeks, days or even hours) I would grow bored and long to be single again.

There was no denying I was in the throes of a mid-thirties (not quite mid-life) lust crisis.

I am hardly alone in this. I believe this sexual restlessness, this strong need to explore is experienced by many men and women who are married or in long term relationships. They harbor these secret feelings in their hearts and at times act on them.

I am convinced that many who embrace monogamy are in deep denial. The rest of us tolerate it or grow to despise this unrealistic societal restriction of our natural impulses to sexually pursue pleasure with as many as partners as possible.

All I know is staying faithful frustrated me to no end as I attempted to make my way through a wasteland of failed love affairs and relationships. The thrill of the new – new pussy, new sexual adventures – intrigued and haunted me. Fidelity is also a struggle for a lot of other men, but many don’t have the guts to come out and say it for fearing the wrath of society and women in particular.

My name is Jake Dalmas and what follows is my diary. It is a strange document of how breaking the bonds of monogamy and ditching boring relationship sex led me on an always interesting, hilarious, intriguing and even at times nightmarish journey into the provocative world of swinging and casual sex.

How did I come to cross the line from conventional relationships into the sexually charged, but largely misunderstood scene of alternative sexual relationships or what is commonly known as swinging?

Lust, curiosity and boredom, mostly. Those were the driving forces that pushed me into forbidden territory. I was tired of being the good boyfriend who always remained faithful. I wanted the adventure and wild sex I had read about without being dishonest with myself and cheating on any of the women I was involved with. I guess I wanted to be a bad boy without being a lying asshole.

Deep down I still preferred serious relationships and still even believed I wanted to get married someday. However, as I have a low threshold for sexual boredom, I began to realize that this conventional lifestyle wasn’t a realistic option for me. My imagination burned with visions of orgies, wild sexual couplings, threesomes, and lusty adventures with women of every background, size and age. There was a porno movie playing in my head all the time.

My urges and desires began to affect every aspect of my life. After a while, I had trouble concentrating on anything else. I almost lost my job as a reporter at a daily newspaper because of this obsession, and later had to move into a less stressful public relations job so I would have more time to work out my sexual malaise.

Several of my girlfriends accused me of cheating on them. Well, I have to admit that I was unfaithful in my fantasies. Most of the time when I had sex with my girlfriends, I fantasized about other women. It was really the only way I could fuck them after a while. I was beginning to feel betrayed by my overactive sexual imagination.

Although I never acted on any of these lusty fantasies while I was in a relationship, I knew I was just fooling myself. It was only a matter of time. I wanted other women. There was no denying it. I began to wonder if we are truly monogamous beings? Some scientists are now struggling to explain the roots of our infidelity and there have been several scientific studies hinting that monogamy may not be natural. No one is really immune. Even former President Bill Clinton (and a number of presidents before him) couldn’t find a way to deal with their sexual urges.

I was searching for answers to my sexual confusion. But the bottom line: I was hoping to get laid as much as possible. I just wanted to have one day in my life like Hugh Hefner’s typical day at the Playboy Mansion (every hot blooded heterosexual American boy’s dream) and just bed down a bevy of sexy, stunning ladies.

I was also very curious about casual sex or put another way -- sex without relationship headaches and bullshit. Was it just a myth from the 1960s or 70s? Did it still exist? How far would people go to spice up their sex lives? Was the sexual revolution long over? Was it just a false myth that we couldn’t let go of?

Yet I embarked on my sexual sojourn with mixed feelings of trepidation, lust and excitement. Honestly, I was even somewhat scared. I was entering unknown territory, unchartered waters for me. I didn’t know what to expect. All I had to go on was rumor, fantasy and sketchy information provided by the Internet, men’s and women’s magazines and swinger rags.

Hollywood and the media only added to my confusion. Swinging or casual sex has been depicted in numerous slanted sensationalist media reports, and in movies such as “Bob, Ted, Carol and Alice” and the “Ice Storm,” as a pastime of bored suburbanites, sexual addicts, perverts, freaks, and the emotionally disturbed. Swinging has never truly been taken seriously by Hollywood or by mainstream society for that matter. Typically, it has been portrayed as some sort of freak show.

However, during my two-year journey into this sexual frontier, I discovered that the sexual revolution never really ended -- it just went underground. I came to view many of the swingers I met – even those I despised -- as erotic explorers and free spirits (not freaks) trying to find pleasure in life that many times lacks any. I know that was also my motivation to explore this sexual world. There had to be more than the traditional, boring relationship sex life for those of us with overactive erotic imaginations.

Casual sex is fast becoming the new recreational drug for American couples and singles in the new century. These erotic adventurers are craving the next hot encounter, the next sexual high.

You can never underestimate the power of lust and sexual fantasy. I believe everyone has been a swinger at least once in their lives. In their minds and imaginations, that is.

Swinging just may be America’s growing underground weekend sport. Each weekend married or unmarried couples hook up with other couples or male and female singles for no-strings sex. They are weekend sexual warriors looking for a new thrill, a new pleasure conquest. They can often be just total strangers meeting for a few hours of pleasure and excitement. They meet in swing clubs, through classified ads, 900 lines and now the Internet. In fact, right now this kind of erotic exploration is occurring in motel rooms, swing clubs and private parties held in beautiful homes right in your neighborhood. Maybe there will be a swing party going on right next door to you this weekend and you won’t even know it.

Each weekend (or vacation) represents an intriguing new adventure for these sexual explorers. In their own fashion, they are attempting to break out of societal restrictions and take more control over their erotic lives. I believe it is a response to monogamy and boredom.

Swinging is not dead. Wild sex has not vanished despite the threat of AIDS and other STDs. Casual sex is not an amusing ritual from the free wheeling 60s and 70s. Swinging is actually going more mainstream these days than many would care to admit. There are about 3 million swingers in the U.S. according to recent surveys and studies, but I think those figures are too low.

People you’d never suspect could have the wildest sex lives. A housewife from Redondo Beach could make Madonna look like a nun as she fucks 10 guys in one night. Or a hairdresser from Kansas could spend Saturday night having a threesome with her husband and his best friend.

Who are these people?

They could be anyone. They might be your neighbors. They are doctors, lawyers, CEOs of large corporations, sports stars, successful business people, actors, directors, writers, blue collar workers, truck drivers, warehouse workers, housewives and working women with children. They are family people with kids living the suburban life. They are the nice people living next door to you. They are work colleagues. They could be your best friend or even a family member. They could be the girlfriend in high school, who gave you a lousy blow job and didn’t seem into sex, but has since experienced sexual adventures far beyond anything you could have dreamed. Or they could be the boy you used to know in high school, who never talked to the girls, and now orchestrates a gangbang with 12 guys fucking his wife or maybe he fucks two or three women in a night.

I think you know a swinger right now and don’t even suspect it.

My cousin Jacob is a typical example. He holds the prevailing mainstream disdain toward swinging and has trouble understanding my interest in this sexual pastime. He down deep believes swinging is adulterous, disloyal and freakish.

However, he was a swinger at one time in his life and didn’t even know it. My cousin’s relationship with his one of his girlfriends came out of a threesome episode. During a weekend trip to Las Vegas, my cousin’s best friend Jack invited him to fuck his wife Julie. Soon after their sexual encounter, my cousin initiated an affair with Julie behind Jack’s back. A year later, Julie divorced her husband and moved in with my cousin. It all started with a threesome. The only difference is my cousin didn’t understand the concept of casual sex and consequently, he broke up someone else’s marriage. As with anything, there are risks. You have to know the rules of the game if you are going to play. I only mention it here because of my cousin’s hypocrisy about swinging and how it is shared by many in mainstream American society. His relationship with Julie was sparked by the kind of sexual adventure – a threesome -- he criticizes so harshly now.

You won’t find any celebrities or any sexual experts in the following diary -- just everyday people searching for something different to spice up and expand their sexual lives. For many of the couples I met along the way, it’s not marriage, but fidelity that they grew bored with. They craved variety, adventure and new forms of pleasure. That didn’t mean they couldn’t fall in love, have conventional lives with children and a house with the picket fence and a seemingly ideal surburban American Dream. They simply don’t agree with the conventional wisdom concerning sex and monogamy. Although it is changing somewhat, unfortunately, many in our society still see these swingers as abnormal and titillating freakish subjects for the TV talk show circuit rather than just open-minded and adventurous people.

Swinging is a sexual world shrouded in secrecy mostly the result of this societal disapproval. It truly is a hidden society with its own set of rules, language and mores. Discretion is a way of life for swingers. Let’s face it -- a lot people just don’t get it or are disgusted and horrified by the idea of another man or woman pleasing and fucking their spouses or long-time girlfriends or boyfriends.

Swinging is a state of mind, not just a lifestyle choice. Some people call it “sport fucking,” but I think it is more than that. Alternative sex offers an opportunity to explore a different side of one’s sexual personality or persona. It only goes to show a healthy interest in sexuality can’t be completely constrained by society. Of course, swinging is not for everyone nor should it be. It is not a journey for the faint of heart or the sexually cautious.

Before we get to my adventures, here’s a little background on me.

Let’s get this straight from the start: I am hardly a stud or a ladies man. I am tall and slender -- about 6- foot-2 and 150 pounds – with blonde hair and brown eyes. I don’t exactly look like a human praying mantis, but many of the women I have known consider me too skinny, even bony. It was worse growing up when I was taunted by schoolmates for my skinny frame. Even my some of my best friends used to call me “bones.” I worked out several times a week with weights and developed a slight muscular physique, but nothing helped.

I couldn’t get laid in high school to save my life. I was painfully shy growing up, particularly around women I found attractive. I never really knew what to say. I would get nervous and just clam up. I would rather say nothing than something stupid.

So as a teenager I discovered the joys of masturbation. I was the jack off king of Costa Mesa, California -- a slice of conservative, suburban hell located in Orange County near Newport Beach. Some call it “Reagan Country,” but it wasn’t that bad. There just wasn’t much to do. The place was once orange groves and open fields, but in the mid to late 1960s developers tapped into the growing population, specifically the flight of affluent young white families from Los Angeles, and built numerous tract homes. It was a very staid and predictable place to grow up, fitting the suburbia stereotype to a tee. They don’t call Orange County the Orange Curtain for nothing.

Despite my repressed environment, sex was not a forbidden subject in my family when I was growing up. My parents, who were raised in Utah but who are not Mormon or particularly religious, talked freely about sex as if it was just another part of life. As descendents of Greek immigrants, they had a very European way of looking at sex -- no shame, no embarrassment and no uptight hang-ups.

Our neighbors were a different story. They were for the most part uptight Catholics, who thought our parents were permissive freaks with no religion or discipline. To them, we were “heathens.” The parents of my best friend Grant forbade him to even watch the TV show “All in the Family.” They thought the controversial show might corrupt him in some way. Grant’s parents and the rest of the blue nose brigade on our block looked upon my family as a bad influence for their kids.

Not surprisingly, Grant and the other kids on my street were in awe of my parents. They couldn’t believe my father allowed me to have a subscription to Playboy at the age of 14. All of my friends (and even those who weren’t) used to make a sort of pilgrimage to my house to look at the forbidden photos of women who seemed so out of reach for us. In my room, we examined these Playboy photos as if studying artifacts from another distant but desirable civilization. It was truly our first connection to this hidden adult world. It was one of our adolescent rituals -- our first taste of forbidden fruit. Stuck in the boring teenage world of Orange County suburbia – Playboy was our escape – an erotic lifeline to something mysterious and exotic.

The same thing happened when our local pay TV service ON TVstarted offering soft porn movies. Seven or eight of us -- all horny teenagers without a clue about sex or women -- would pile into my dad’s den room to watch these forbidden films. We were fascinated and awed by these provocative depictions of erotica. They seem lame to me now, but back then it was something special. Everything in these movies was implied. No raw sex scenes. This was softcore porn. No depictions of actual penetration were displayed leaving the mystery of sex still intact and burning brighter than ever in our adolescent imaginations.

Our favorite soft porn flicks were those by director Russ Meyer. His films are funny and don’t take themselves too seriously, and he features women with big breasts that only fueled our adolescent fantasies. My favorite character in one of his movies was an attractive large breasted woman named “Lavonia.” Her adventures were sexy and funny, but what attracted me most about her was that she was a horny housewife. Fucking a horny housewife was one of my hottest adolescent fantasies. I used to jack off countless times thinking about some of the young housewives that lived in our neighborhood.

In one my favorite fantasies, I fucked a sexy older Latin woman that lived next door to us. I found out from several people in our neighborhood that when her husband was gone, she would put on a strip show. She pulled aside the drapes of a large window located at the front of her house, and slowly stripped naked for the neighbors. Unfortunately, I never caught her show. I stood out in front of her house every night for weeks after I heard about it, hoping for a glimpse, but the drapes remained closed for me.

Still, I imagined fucking her in front of the big window with the whole neighborhood watching us. In real life, we never exchanged more than several words. I was just a harmless kid who lived next door to her. I was not yet a man. I would sometimes purposely knock a baseball over into her backyard in a lame attempt to meet her, but she never took notice of me in that way. Although that didn’t put any damper on my masturbation fantasy.

Penthouse Magazine’s “Penthouse Forum” was another key source of sexual information (or misinformation?) during my teen years. The section’s lurid and risqué descriptions of wild and forbidden sexual encounters fired up my budding erotic imagination. Yet at the time, it just seem didn’t real to me. I thought it was just fake material for jacking off. I wondered who were these people who expressed their sexuality in such an uninhibited and wild manner. It was the Penthouse Forum that initially introduced me to the concept of alternative sex even though it seemed like science fiction to me at the time -- out of reach and very improbable.

Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione and later even Larry Flynt were my real fathers when it came to my sexual education. Of course, even with access to all this sexual information as a teenager I still knew next to nothing about real women. They were as mysterious to me as creatures from another planet. Throughout my adolescence and even into my early twenties, I remained fearful to even talk to a woman. Whenever I tried, I felt awkward and foolish. I didn’t know what to say or I never seemed to say the right thing to attract them. Whenever I approached a woman I was attracted to, my heart would start beating out of control and I would break out into a cold sweat. I felt trapped by my own shyness and ignorance while my imagination was working overtime inflamed with unfulfilled sexual desires.

I fantasized and masturbated constantly during my teen years. I was admittedly a late bloomer and I was a virgin until shortly after I turned 22. I had my first sexual experience with an attractive African American woman named Shawna during my second year in college at California State University Long Beach. She was a tall, slender woman in her mid twenties with short hair, big brown eyes, large breasts and a nice round ass. It was her open and friendly attitude, and the fact she was a few years older that attracted me. She loved sex. She savored it. In a way, her openness scared me, too. She approached her sexuality with such confidence and abandon. Sex truly was an erotic journey for her.

Frankly, Shawna kind of overwhelmed me. I came in about 20 seconds when we first had sex. I felt embarrassed and admitted to her it was my first time. She smiled at me and laughed.
“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she said. “It will get better.” She was right, but ultimately I proved no match for Shawna’s sexual appetite and experience.

During our sexual encounters, Shawna had a unique way of expressing herself. When she was extremely aroused, she would start yelling, “Holy! Holy! baby....Holy! Holy! baby...oh holyyyyy holyyyyyy ......” Her holy chant would become more intense as she neared orgasm. Shawna would become lost in a reverie listening to erotic music only she could hear. When I asked her about it afterward, she just laughed and said, “when I am fucking, baby you never know what I might say.” But she always said the same thing when she was fucking. Odd, but hot, too.

Shawna was always horny wanting to fuck several times a day and I couldn’t keep up. She quickly got bored and after a few weeks, Shawna dumped me and took up with a much older and experienced lover -- one of her professors. I wonder if Shawna’s professor graded her on her curves.

I never forgot about her, though. Shawna’s fearless, open sexuality excited and inspired me. Years later I even found myself fantasizing about her when I fucked other women. Her attitude was similar to that of the swingers I would meet later on.

I knew infiltrating the mysterious and underground world of swingers was not going to be easy. I was embarking on a trip without a roadmap or compass. All I really had to go on were essentially erotic myths, rumors and fantasies. I really didn’t know what I would find. Maybe I would discover aspects about myself and my sexuality I had not previously known or even a new way to express myself sexually.

I also wondered what past writers, particularly Henry Miller and Anais Nin, would make of today’s modern conveniences of voicemail, 900 numbers, the explosion of porn, and the Internet. Would they find the same basic truths about sex, monogamy and love? Or would they be faced with an emptiness, a modern, calculated, instant gratification world of erotica featuring wall-to-wall sucking and fucking with no real sense of adventure, heart or soul? Inspired by their amazing and provocative novels and diaries, I wanted to explore the evolving nature of eroticism, sex and romance occurring in my time as they did in theirs.

Through my adventures, I was also hoping to shed some light on a thriving sexual underground in America and discover if swinging has truly gone mainstream. I can only hope I have honestly put down in my swinger’s diary what I was feeling and experiencing during my wild romp through this confused journey that we call modern sex.

Introduction to my blog for my novel "Monogamy Sucks"

This blog is devoted to my unpublished fiction novel, “Monogamy Sucks,” an exploration of a Long Beach, California man’s mid-thirties lust crisis and his ensuing bizarre, but intriguing journey into the world of swinging and alternative sex.

Think of this work as an edgy male version of "Sex in the City" written from the point of view of an inept, inexperienced swinger. Except my novel's protagonist Jake Dalmas is not interested in finding love, but instead is obsessed with finding great sex with no strings, no commitments, no relationship bullshit, and most of all -- no monogamy.

This novel is especially timely considering the recent spate of public sex scandals, including golfer Tiger Woods, TV personality Jesse James, and too many other celebrities and politicians to mention here.

I have been working on my novel off and on for the past 12 years and have tried to stay true to my experiences and the experiences of those I met along the way, but remember this is a work of fiction. It’s not non-fiction, a memoir or autobiographical. Any passing resemblance to real life people and encounters have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent. A great deal of this book exists in the realm of my imagination with real life incidents only serving as a jumping off point so to speak. Other chapters are pure fiction with no connection to real life experiences. Either way I hope you’ll be intrigued, amused, shocked, entertained and maybe even inspired by what you find here.

Each month I will introduce a new chapter or two on this blog with the goal of eventually bringing out my entire book in print and digital form.

Please enjoy this work in the spirit it has been offered -- with an open mind, an adventurous soul and a good sense of humor.

Members of the media and others who are interested in contacting me about my ongoing book project, feel free to reach me at gmpwrite@gmail.com