Chapter 7

I can be a lot more introspective than Krys. That's one of those obvious statements like music in New Orleans, corruption in Washington DC, or the sun rising in the east. A walk through the ocean of my sister's soul would scarcely get your feet wet. Of course I don't stop thinking, which is the problem. I think I've said before that I can over think something.

So the reader probably won't be too surprised that I did a lot of thinking about my entry into the swinging life, or even what was now my sex life. Two weeks before I'd been as relatively innocent as a teenage girl who'd barely had her first kiss could be, and now I was having sex with several boys a night. This wasn't what you'd call your average behavior.

The first question, of course, was why I did it? Why wasn't I "normal"? Define that word. From all the gossip, that meant one guy, and I'd sort of edge into sex with a whole series of awkward encounters, but the reality nowhere near that. This was reinforced by what we saw on TV and read in both the magazines and the romance novels. A girl had one man. She hooked up with him, or he swept her off her feet, and she was a wild woman with him, and innocent and demure with everyone else. She and her man didn't have casual sex with other couples.

So what was wrong with me? Why was I so enthusiastic about all the different guys? Why did I do it without, apparently, finding anything wrong with it?

Who said it was wrong?

Oh, I know, society.

So? Society didn't have to know. Besides, how much of that social baggage was to make sure that when a girl got pregnant, as she would, she knew who the father was, but more important than that, the man knew it was his child.

Sex was supposed to be almost holy, sacred, or something. It was all shrouded in myth (romance novels) and if there was pleasure, it sort of happened, and, I swear, people thought the woman shouldn't experience too much of it. We did, and men knew it, which might explain all the controls on a young girl. You wanted her to believe in only one man.

Now that's not saying that multiple partners is right for everyone. For a lot of women one man was more than enough. And I had that one man, Eric. So why did I enthusiastically hop into the sack with all these other guys? There was an implied social compact between us, that's why. Well, that and sex was safe, fun, and pleasurable.

Okay, time for some explanations. The Pill changed everything. I was not going to get pregnant unless I wanted to. And we only had sex in our enclosed little group, which limited the chances of getting a social disease. I figured this out when I saw a report that my Mom had left out; the doctor reporting that I had no STDs whatsoever. Of course there were the noan-bots that I signed up for that cruised my bloodstream looking for those social diseases and zapping them, but that was later when I was in college.

That just leaves the emotional side of sex, and that can be a problem. That's why it is better to party as a couple. I always had Eric to snuggle with, and a couple of times I'd been glad he was there. I'd been too overwhelmed by whatever happened, and I felt safe in his arms.

Jealousy? That's one of the bigger pitfalls, and one that stalks the average person who doesn't realize a simple fact: you don't own your partner. And if you both agree and do this of your own free will, there is absolutely no cause for jealousy. Of course people said that, but sometimes I wondered if they meant it.

I heard one woman who partied with my parents. She knew at least five guys who were better lovers than her husband. But sex alone wasn't enough to keep her interested in a guy. There was so much more going on with her husband. They'd built a life together, and sex was just part of it.

Eric and I were building a life together, that much I could sense. We were beginning to share glances like old married couples, as if sharing some secret communications. And I was beginning to know his tastes and how he would react without being prompted. One girl couldn't believe it when she asked how long we'd been together and found out it was less than two weeks. We were spending our dates talking, which was good. I wanted to spend it in bed with him, but right now our sex lives were in public. That was ironic in a way.

I kept my ears open for any talk of how Eric and I were 'getting it on', and heard nothing. That was good. We were public, we were visible, and we were clearly not jumping each others' bones, at least where the rest of school knew.

So, did that answer why? Probably not. People don't want answers, they want guilt trips. They want tormented self-confessions. They want their own experiences to be validated.

I can't help it. I found sex to be fun, even before I knew I was orgasmic, or, better, multi-orgasmic. A girl can come and come, and come again. That happened that first weekend with Eric. Actually, it sort of happened earlier when I had a guy right after another one, and came both times.

I wasn't alone in this. Every girl in our group, and our mothers too, could climax from straight sex. I'm told only about two girls out of five can do this. The rest? I don't know what happens. They have the same bodies, but they must be wired differently in the head, because that's where the pleasure happens. So much of sex happens in a girl's head, along with her expectations. And, in the end, I think that was what drew me to swinging.

First, it was not only all right with my mother, but she found the whole idea to be more than just "okay". Second, boys found me desirable. They saw me, and their dicks got stiff. And seeing a naked girl doesn't automatically give a boy a stiff one. If it did, then there'd be a lot of awkward sitting guys in strip bars. Nudists don't count, they've formed a society where it was all right to be naked all of the time, but you weren't supposed to react. I understand that once in a while there's an 'accident' and the guy will lie on his stomach until it subsides.

It's much healthier to have the girl take care of it. After all, in my view, she should be flattered that he has that reaction. And as long as he has one, and if you're in the right setting, why not take care of things.

The only thing that was different with our group than the other groups I heard about through the grapevine was that we did nearly everything 'bareback'. The only time I saw condoms used was during anal sex. There are a lot more germs in your rear, it's the body's way of getting rid of things after all, and you didn't want to introduce them into someone else. Besides the 'yuck' factor, there was just the whole idea of it being unsanitary. I know that appeals to some people, but if you're going to have sex as a social activity, you need to be aware of such things.

The rules got spelled out to me by Mom: if we went outside the group, we used condoms for everything. The safety of the whole group lay in our being careful. There were a lot of people who weren't, and that's why sexually transmitted diseases were as prevalent as they were.

I've always thought that condoms were made with the girl in mind. Now a smart girl, which rules out about half the ones I know, would take precautions to make sure she wasn't making a baby. A condom was a reasonably good way to do that. The girl got the length and hardness that she wanted, the guy got to come in a protected manner, which was what he wanted, and everyone was happy.

Personally, except for anal sex, I didn't care for them all that much. They felt too slick. And I did like the "ooey-gooey" feeling of come slipping out of me. Call it a fetish. It's hard to say, we all have them, and this had to be one.