Chapter 7
Swapping Sessions And Plural Sex
In the eyes of the average person who is often somewhat stunned by the proportions of the so-called sexual revolution, some of the cases outlined previously may be excused on the grounds that the young persons involved were the victims of their poor environment, lack of parental guidance, and lack of healthy outlets for their exuberance. Much harder to understand and condone are the sadistic and masochistic perverts who pay others for mass violence, or who inflict violence on others for sex kicks.
Psychiatrists are puzzled at the variety of causes for the sharp rise in masochism and sadism, although some state that there is not as sharp a rise in this particular sexual aberration as there is in an open 'getting-together' of the many adherents.
Almost all of the underground and offbeat newspapers (many of them published on the college campuses) carry rather blatant ads that bring such persons into contact with one another for mass sadomasochistic orgies.
Another puzzling factor is the high incidence of ostensibly well-off, upper-bracket-income people who indulge in this practice of violent multiple sex bouts. That many of them merely have jaded sex appetites is undeniable. Psychiatry, however, has been unable to relegate all of them to a definite pattern or category. Perhaps Ethel R. might be considered typical of one group: the bored, well-off housewife.
Ethel is forty-three, a living testimony to the marvelous powers of modern medicine and cosmetics, as well as to the effects of the "good life" of the prosperous middle class. Her daughter is married, and her youngest son is completing college in the East. Carl, her husband, is a successful business man who owns a small chain of laundromats, and who has extensive stock holdings of a very sound nature. Ethel, by her own admission, simply grew tired of the twice-a-week sex she got from her husband, and decided to do something about it.
She happened to see a copy of a local underground newspaper, and answered an ad that read, "Broad-minded couple, thirty-eight and thirty-two, wishes to have social relations with like-minded couples or singles. Race or age no barrier."
There was a post-office box number, and Ethel included a snapshot of herself, taken in a brief bathing suit, which showed her magnificent, mature shape and her obvious beauty. Let her continue the account of her sexual adventure with the sadomasochist crowd:
"I'd read and heard of the regular swappers, but I didn't realize that there was another kind. When I answered the ad, I received a phone call from a woman. She identified herself as the woman in the ad, and she asked me how I felt about discipline. I found out later that she was talking about something entirely apart from what I believed discipline meant.
"She said that both she and her husband were impressed by my letter and picture. They asked immediately if my husband wanted to accompany me, and I told them he might later. Actually, I hadn't mentioned it to him. I was invited to meet them at their home, and I was surprised at the address they gave me. It was in one of the wealthiest sections of the city. But there were even more surprises in store for me when I arrived.
"I was met at the door by a distinguished-looking woman; not beautiful, but what I'd call handsome. She was warm and pleasant-so much so that I wondered what could be wrong with a man who wouldn't find extreme sexual pleasure with her. Her husband was a fine-looking man, well-mannered and soft-spoken. He handed me a martini soon after I arrived.
"We talked for a few moments, then they led me into what they called the den. There I found four other persons, two men and two women. The woman-I'll call her June-announced that I was the last of the invited guests, and immediately everyone began to undress. The second martini made it easier for me to take my clothes off. I was fascinated by the strange marks-bruises, welts, and a couple of burns on the skins of some of the guests.
"When we were all stripped, June asked pleasantly who wanted to be the first. A young woman stepped out and sat on a couch in the center of the room. She was a pretty girl, about twenty-eight or so. June asked what she preferred, leather or a hairbrush. She said she preferred the belt.
"By this time I had begun to get the idea that I'd stepped into a pretty weird group, and I told June's husband, the host, that I had made a mistake, and wanted to leave. He called everyone together, pushing me gently down into a chair.
" 'Now Ethel,' he said, 'we might as well be honest. We were not getting anything out of our sex lives as they were. In all fairness, you ought to give us at least a chance to prove our point. You need not try discipline unless you choose. However, we have a little test that usually proves if you need extra stimulation. Will you choose one of us men-or women, if you prefer-and have intercourse? '
"I was shocked, but then that was what I had come for. I chose a younger man who had gained quite an erection while we were talking. He led me to the couch, while the others watched. He laid me down and began kissing my breasts. I admit that was something I hadn't had much of lately. I'd always been very responsive to having my nipples sucked, even nipped a little. He then began moving downward with his tongue and lips, and finally he spread my legs and inserted his tongue inside the lips of my vagina. He worked on me for over five minutes, and I was close to coming several times but I just couldn't.
"He moved around, and got on top of me. So help me, he had the most wonderful piece of meat I've ever seen on a man! He shoved that big dick into me and, I swear, I had never had it any better. I was sure I'd come in about thirty seconds, but again he worked on me for over five minutes. I know he came once, and maybe twice, but I was still pumping away, sucking his tongue, clutching his ass-cheeks, waiting, hoping, needing!
"Then he pulled out. He was still good and hard, and I tried to pull him back, so I could kiss his penis. I didn't want him to quit on me. But he just walked away, laughing at me, and then I became aware that everybody was laughing at me! I sat up, trying to cover my vagina and breasts, but it was silly. They knew what I was just beginning to know-I needed something else-something to add to a man's kissing me and putting a lovely dick inside of me. Can you understand?
"Then June walked over to me. I sat there, naked, crying, and wishing I could find a hole to crawl into. She put her arm around me, and leaning over, kissed my hair. Then she said, 'Poor baby. Now will you try it our way?'
"I guess I nodded, because the next thing I knew, this same fellow was back, kissing my pussy. Oh, God, how he was trying to be sexy but gentle and I wanted him to make me come so badly! I didn't see June's husband walk over, but I sure felt it when he hit me! He hit me across my breasts with a belt. It startled and hurt me, and I had to fight to keep control. Then I asked myself, 'Is this better? Is this what I am really after? Is this what I need?'
"I tried to divorce myself from my feelings. I lay there, waiting to see what would happen next. June's husband hit me again, and I felt a new emotion rising inside me as this young fellow was sucking my box and putting his finger up my ass-hole. I had never had anal intercourse, and I had never liked my husband massaging my anus. But now, I found that it was different! I really got with it. While June's husband struck me across my breasts and stomach, with that belt, I really came alive. I had had my cunt kissed many times but never like this! This man was driving me wild with his tongue. I pushed him off and rolled him over so that I could get on top. I understood later that I had done this in hopes that someone would hit me on the ass with that energizing belt, but all I knew then was that I wanted to be fucked, and I wanted to be on top-something that my husband Carl would never stand for.
"When we reversed positions, June came up with a hairbrush. And while her husband laid it on me with that belt, she began to hit me on the ass with the brush!
"If you've never known this thrill, then it is almost impossible to describe what happens. All I know is that there is no man-or woman-on earth who can alone accomplish the effect on the emotions in the way that discipline does. I learned that a stinging ass and breasts that hurt can pep up your sex life!
"I can't explain, but when they hit me with that belt and hairbrush, all my flesh came alive! Looking back, that man underneath me meant nothing-it was me, don't you see-that came alive! "
This woman eventually formed a sex club of her own. Her husband, unable to respond to the sadism and masochism of the group, finally divorced her. She inherited a considerable amount of money and property, and with her influence, she had had no trouble from the police in her kingdom of sadism.
Fortunately, her husband made himself available for comment. When confronted with the fact that his wife had become a confirmed masochist, he made this statement:
"Ethel? I hope she's having as good a time in bed as I am. Hell, she and I were washed up years ago. I don't know just when, but a long time ago we stopped making it in bed. So should I stop living? To hell with that! There are a bunch of fresh, eager newcomers ready for me and I'd be a damned fool not to go for some of them. They don't pretend, like Ethel and hundreds of wives like her do. They say it right out, 'Make me come, daddy, and lay a bill in my hand.' That's the name of the game-and I play it a lot. Now Ethel has her kicks and I've got mine."
Psychiatrists haven't the answer, and neither have we. Where will it end? It is no longer a game of wife-swapping, or sex orgies, it seems to have settled into a game of "doing your own thing, baby."
Much has been said and written about the swinging singles. They are not made up of wild teen-agers, for the teeny-boppers can't afford that kind of life-although they often do get into the act. The average swinging single is from twenty-five to thirty-five years of age. In fact, many of the ads for apartments catering to the swinging singles set and age limit of thirty-five upon prospective tenants. Even then there are plenty of applicants-both male and female. One of them is Gary V., a thirty-two-year-old junior executive who drives a flashy sports car, has a well-furnished apartment, and who can probably have any girl he wants.
"I went the route. There are a dozen bars in the Valley where I can drop in, buy some drinks and wind up with a chick in my bed. But that ain't the only scene, man. Variety is the name of the game. There's more than one way to skin a cat.
"Well, I read about this swinging singles joint, and I gave it the once-over. A buddy and I share an apartment. It's my furniture, but we split the bills. Most of the swinging joints are that way-two guys or gals sharing a pad. There's an age limit of thirty-two at my place, and you ought to see the dolls that live there. They come in all sizes and shapes-cherries, divorcees, redheads, brunettes, blondes-and every one of them is there for one thing: to swing.
"The first weekend we were there, we threw a shindig. There were about fourteen gals and ten guys. Everybody brought something-the girls brought food, and the guys, booze. It started off slow and everybody had a few before any action started. Then one of the girls stripped to her panties and grabbed a guy for a 'frug' number. That did it. Before the record ended, half of the people in the joint were stripped.
"We've got a two-bedroom apartment, and inside ten minutes, both the beds were in use. The rest of us, in the living room, were too hot to cool down, so we just went at it right there. It was my first time with people watching. Oh, I'd done it in the back seat of a car while another couple was up front, but this was different-this was swinging! The girl I had been dancing with was a real hot piece with nice big boobs and a shape like a Greek goddess. She made me lay down on the floor on my back, and she got positioned over me with her ass toward my cock. Then she lowered herself on my tool, and she used her legs to move up and down while I held her ass and hips. like I said, there were more girls than guys, and this one babe came over and stood over me so I could look right up into her snatch and says, 'Got room for one more, baby?' Before I could answer, she squatted down over my face, spread the lips of her cunt and planted it right on my lips. I've eaten pussy a lot of times but this was the first time I'd done it for an audience. It was fun trying to make the broad I was fucking come, and at the same time, trying to make the one above my face have an orgasm with my tongue and lips. The broad on top of my cock won the race, and I came when she did.
"No sooner had we finished, when the dame I was pussy-licking pushed the screwer off and climbed on. I've heard of sloppy seconds for guys, but this was the first time I'd ever seen a dame hot enough to want a come-covered pecker inside of her, fresh from another cunt! I couldn't work it too good the second time since I was on my back, so I rolled her over and went to work. God, she had a deep cunt! She worked her legs up so that her calves were resting on my shoulder, and I put my hands under her ass-cheeks and lifted. She was wild for it, and kept saying, 'Harder, lover, harder! All the way with little Mae!'
"To give you an idea of the kind of swingers that live in this place, all the dames who were watching kept on making remarks like, 'Who needs a sex ball with a stud like this?' or 'Mae, I'm going to stand by your face so when that prick comes out through your mouth, I can get some.' And other things like that.
"They weren't kidding. When I got through, one of the gals had a warm, wet washcloth and a towel, and she washed me off real good, then began to suck me off. I thought I was pretty good with dames, but this bunch-they were something else.
"And that wasn't an unusual brawl. Usually, there aren't that many there, but the routine is always the same. We had four girls in the building that went both ways-guys or dames-but I don't think there were any homos or bisexuals. At least if there were, they weren't at any of the bashes I swung at.
"Those girls really turned me on. Maybe I'm different, but when I've been in the saddle about three or four times, and old Peter is sagging badly, all I need to turn me on is to watch a couple of dames go down on each other, or to watch a daisy chain with a guy in the middle and everybody sucking. I tell you, I doubt if anybody in that building, in the two years I've lived there, ever had to masturbate. If they ever do, they're off their rockers.
"All the dames were on the 'pill,' so there was never any need for 'safeties,' and the gals were really clean. Most of them came right from work, took a quick swim, then headed for a shower and a douche. I know I sucked a lot of pussy, and I never once got turned off by the smell, and that's a big thing. Sometimes, on a quiet night, we used to sit around and talk about sex. All the angles. We were all pretty blunt, and I learned a hell of a lot about how dames feel about guys, and how many pitfalls there are that can turn a dame off.
"One thing that never occurred to me is this: a guy that isn't circumcised can form a hell of a lot of 'cheese'-you know, the white stuff inside the flap that covers the head of his dick. Maybe you know that already, but I'll bet you didn't know that some gals actually like it to be there when they blow you!
"And a couple of the guys admitted that they actually liked the smell of a dame's pussy when they went down on the snatch! We talked about a lot of things, and we had some of the best sex sessions afterwards that anybody could imagine.
"This one girl, to give you an example, was frustrating to me. I screwed her silly-deep, and slow, with my tongue deep in her mouth, and sometimes I waited to come for as long as ten minutes-but she just couldn't get with it. At one of the bull sessions she was at, I asked her flat out, what went with her. Instead of telling me, she strips off her clothes, makes me take mine off, and right there, in front of everybody, she showed me. When I got on top of her, she told me to let her 'do the driving.' She put my cock in just right, with me riding high on the knob just inside the lips. Then she takes one of my hands and puts it on her breast, and the other one she slides under her ass. She takes my middle finger and guides it right to her ass-hole and says, 'Now rake the titty with your fingernails, baby-not too hard-and work that finger inside my ass-hole!' And then that dame came before I did!
"Funny, but since I've lived there, a hell of a lot of gals and guys have gotten married, but not one ever married a person from the building! We talk about that, too, I guess it works out that everybody wants to learn all the ins and outs of sex, the way they like it, and the way the average member of the opposite sex like it. Then they want to marry their own choice, feeling secure in the belief that they can give and take in the sex department with no problems.
"Once in a while, we'd invite outsiders to the sex binges, but it got to be a drag. Usually, it was a guy who'd bring a dame he was hung up on, and whom he couldn't get into the hay. He figured that with some good booze, and all the sights to stimulate her, she'd be a pushover, but it seldom worked that way. If you have to bring a dame to a sex session to get into her panties, she's going to be turned off at the sight of dames sucking a guy's prick, or going down on another woman. I tried it with a chick from the office and I know.
"I don't go steady with any one gal. I like the kind of dames that live in a swinging place. I can find a dame to do all the things I like, such as going to a football game, or surfing, and I always know that we're going to go to bed afterwards.
"Would I marry a dame like the ones that live in the building? I might. Most of these gals are pretty sharp. And, strange as it might sound, they aren't tramps, either. They just take sex for what it is-something that's natural, and that can be damned good if you don't use it as a whip. No woman will ever use sex to blackmail me, I'll tell you that. I've got some married friends, and I've seen that scene. 'Be a good boy, Tommy, and I'll give you a piece of ass tonight.' Or 'No, you lost twenty dollars playing poker, so you don't get any for a week!' Horseshit on that noise. If one won't give, there are ten who will, and with no strings attached."
To round out the picture of multiple sex in the middle-class single echelon, consider the story of Clara. Clara is twenty-six, makes $142.50 a week take-home pay, and has a nice apartment. Presumably, she will soon move into the $15,000 a-year bracket as a copywriter for a large advertising firm dealing exclusively in ladies' apparel and cosmetics. She is pretty, has an eye-catching shape, and her mind is like a computer. Yet, she was bitter, frustrated and lonely until she found her solution to the problem of a girl who needs sex regularly, but has no intention of marrying. Clara is one of those who like multiple sex-but for her, it must be anonymous.
"Maybe it was at college that I first got bored with sex. At my school, you had your choice-guys or dolls. It was a coed joint, and you could swing with the gals in the dorm, or you could go out and get all the ass you needed from guys-either on campus or off. Stupid as it may sound, I was afraid of getting pregnant. I'd been knocked up when I was sixteen, and had had an abortion. I almost didn't make it, so maybe I had a good reason for going the lesbian route.
"I never heard of the 'pill' until about four years ago, and by that time, I had formed a sex pattern with women, although not exclusively. When I needed a man-and often I did-I'd just make the guy wear a rubber. I kept my own supply. But you be surprised how many guys don't like them and don't come back for seconds.
"While I was beginning to make myself noticed at the office, the 'pill' came out, and you can bet your sweet ass that I went for it! I found a lot of lesbians where I work, and I fooled with them for a while. Then I found the real swingers-the ones that go both ways, as a general rule. Then I got screwed up with my boss who just happens to be a woman. When she took over, she really took over. She laid it right on the line with, "Baby, you're mine or you're out!' The only thing that saved me was the fact that she was always busy on weekends, usually with business, and sometimes with her jerk of a husband who happened to be a queer. Talk about 'marriage of convenience!' Hows that for a double cover-up!
"Anyhow, I got so goddamned bored with this 'butch' that I took to hanging around bars. Not cheap ones, but places where I knew I could find men. There are lots of bars like that these days, and Friday is the best night for making a pick-up.
You can score early and spend the whole weekend with a guy, No strings, no questions. Hell, half of the guys I slept with didn't even know my last name. And that's part of the attraction. You go out with a guy three times and he wants to own you. Exclusive rights are not for this baby. I like anonymity, and the bars give it to me. Or they did.
"I started going to this one bar that catered to office workers-the singles and others who hate to face a lonely weekend. There are certain unwritten rules. You don't get snooty if a guy asks you to have a drink, but you don't get grabby, either. I mean, you talk it out. If you don't swing the same way, no hard feelings. The guy wanders on down the bar to ask somebody else, and you play it cool and wait for another offer. And you'll get one."
An eminent psychiatrist says, "Almost any large American city offers the lonely or frustrated woman the dual advantages of unlimited opportunity, plus almost complete anonymity. In these crowded, urban centers, they may unburden their troubles, participate in activities they would not or could not share in their individual communities. In the big city, with the chance of exposure slight, they are able to engage their emotional responses in free and unrestricted play.
In large cities like New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and San Francisco, there are numerous pick-up bars that cater almost exclusively to the growing horde of lonely women-many from out of town-who are searching for sex. To keep the trade coming back, many of them employ a cozy communications system that insures their companion-seeking female guests every possible opportunity of landing a man before the place closes.
And drinks that are $I.50 for males are only fifty cents for an unescorted lady. However, once she is hooked up with a guy, the price goes up to normal.
The gimmick is simple: each booth has a telephone, and the customer can dial any other booth in the place and have a private two-way conversation. The girls sit in a booth (with or without other girls) and the guys dial them after they've given them the once-over. Or vice versa. If a woman spots a guy who strikes her imagine, she can always talk to him at length. Then, if they seem to hit it off, simply tell him that she is the blonde in the red dress, seated in booth number forty! Then they join forces, and soon they leave arm-in-arm!
The owner of a heavily-patronized bar of this type in Los Angeles said, "We get a lot of weekend kick hunters. They're deadly serious, and if it's getting late and they are still without a stud, you can see the panic in their eyes. And they're not just chickens, either. They come in all sizes, from pony-tailed kids to plump, middle-aged housewives, and they all want one thing: some imagine fucking over the weekend."
But back to Clara:
"I swung pretty good at this bar, but something was wrong. I just wasn't satisfied shacking up with one guy-not even for a couple of days. It wasn't the guy's fault. It was mine. I finally had to face the fact that I was a nymphomaniac. I needed a lot of men, and sometimes women. And I decided I'd get them, the easy way.
"I dated this bell captain from a fine hotel. I met him at the bar and spent a weekend with him. Al's a nice kid, and he's willing to do anything I want for sex kicks, but it just wasn't enough for me. Then he came up with a idea.
"We always used a room at the hotel where he worked. And one night we were having a hell of an argument because he just couldn't go anymore, and I was still frustrated and hot as a two-dollar pistol. He was putting his clothes on and when he saw how upset I was, he said, 'Christ, kid, you're missing out on a gold mine. I know twenty guys in this hotel who would pay fifty bucks to get into that box-guys who wouldn't ask questions, and you'd never see them again.'
"At the moment, I was too pissed off at him to think about it, and too frustrated from being on the edge of coming, to argue with him. We had some booze in the room and as I drank, I got madder by the minute. Finally, I told him to send up a few of those guys. I'll be goddamned if he didn't! Three of them showed up within minutes! He told me later that he was just getting even with me for being so bitchy with him.
"When the first guy walked in, I guess he thought I was just a whore, because as he started to undress, he laid a twenty on the table. I got to giggling at the idea, so I didn't let on. He climbed on top of me, and we were working away, with him fucking me from the back and me on my hands and knees, when in walks the second character. Would you believe that he just stood there grinning and watching us?
"And here's the pay-off! For the first time in over five years. I had an orgasm that really put me in orbit. At first I thought it was the guy who was jazzing me, but it couldn't have been, because he wasn't half as big or good as Al.
"After this guy had shot his load, I rolled over, spread my legs and told the other guy that he was at bat! Meanwhile, the first one was getting dressed, and had a dazed look on his face. I guess I'd given him a real ride for his dough, because he looked like he'd just won the Irish Sweepstakes. All of a sudden, the door opened and in walked another joker!
"So, for my second fuck of the session, I had an audience of two. And I came again-three times, while the guy on top came once-and the two guys who were staring with wide eyes at us re-stiffened their cocks! When we finished, the first guy asked me if he could go again, and by then I was flying. I told him he could-but only if the others could stay and watch. After each of them had fucked me twice, they ponied up the dough even though I hadn't said a word!
"Finally Al came back to the room while the guys were still there. By that time, I was pooped from all the orgasms, but they were just what I'd been dying for all these years. So we set it up for the next night. You'll think this is funny, but I gave all the money to Al, and the next night he got me a two-room suite,-and brought in another girl!
"Now I go there almost every weekend. I usually get screwed by anywhere from five to twelve guys, and it's always done with the doors wide open between the rooms. I come almost every time now. I guess I'm a weirdo, but I'm one of those who says 'amen' to the sex scene with a lot of people around. And I still don't do it for money. Al gets all the dough I make. It's worth it to me to have all the sex kicks I get. Edie, the other girl, is a regular call-girl, so she takes her share.
"I drop in at the bar once in a while. A couple of times I've taken other girls and guys on-one or two at a time. I still have to sleep with my boss a couple of nights a week, and I can enjoy that kind of sex more now, for some reason.
"What if I should marry? I won't. You can bet on that. I know now that I never could be satisfied by one man. Without others watching, I'd be a zero. If I were to marry, I guess it would be to a guy I could be honest with, and tell him right off that we'd have to join one of those mate-swapping clubs or some sort of group that goes in for sex orgies.
We asked a leading West Coast psychologist to comment on Clara's story. He was unable to do so until he had had consultations with her during which he asked some pertinent questions about her life. After several sessions, this was his comment:
"Clara told me that she was a virgin until she was sixteen. After her first sexual adventure, she had the unpleasant experience of an abortion. This caused her subconsciously to hate men because she feared them and their ability to impregnate her. Thus, she was ripe for her lesbian experiences in college.
"I have consulted several lesbians, and all seem to agree that, while they do experience orgasm with lesbian sex, the orgasm is often unsatisfactory and is not as full as the ones they have with a male. In my opinion, Clara could not relax with any of the males with whom she had intercourse. Although she attained orgasms with lesbians, she was frustrated by her subconscious desire for men.
"As to the release she experienced when she indulged in sex in front of spectators, it seems that Clara, because of her inability to achieve orgasm without an audience, had come to doubt her own sexual makeup. That is, she wondered whether or not she was really a sexually capable woman, and when she saw the admiration of the men who were present during her acts of intercourse, a subconscious release was triggered, and she then believed herself to be all woman and responded as such."
This writer had several interviews with persons who frequented a swinging bar just off San Francisco's Powell Street. The first talk was with the bartender:
"All kinds," he said with a shrug, "divorcees, bored broads from Nob Hill, they all come in for pick-ups-and they get 'em. There are a lot of college kids not yet dry behind the ears who know what this bar is for, and they grab anything they can get. Age doesn't count, so long as the broad swings.
"The ones that bug me are the young broads. When they walk in, always at least three or four together, I wish I could slap them on their asses and call their parents. Chances are, though, their folks are out at some other swinging bar, picking up kids the same age as theirs to shack up with for the weekend.
"But these young chicks-jailbait is what they are-come waltzing in and when they reach the bar I tell them to go home and do their homework. They always give me the same pitch, 'Be a doll, Frank, and steer us to some swinging "studs.' I tell them to get lost and they tell me to go fuck myself-and that's the words they use, too.
"After they've wandered around for a few minutes, the wolves close in. The next thing I know, they're all paired off, sometimes with guys older than their fathers, and then they head out."
A professor of psychiatry at a New York college of medicine writes, "Bored and frustrated individuals, no matter what their age, are prone to counteract their boredom and frustration by seeking out hectic activities which are undertaken and performed compulsively."
"Frustration and boredom," this same professor says, "are the heritage of today's youth. They have everything given them-money, cars, leisure time, personal freedom. This has to become boring, so they seek other outlets. And remember, forbidden fruit still tastes the sweetest."
This initial boredom, experts claim, carries over into the married lives of a startling number of young people. It is almost impossible for a normally healthy human being to indulge in multiple-choice sex habits while single, and then settle for one sex partner after marriage. Some, more daring or pessimistic than most, predict that by 1975 the concept of life-long, one-partner marriages will have become obsolete-so strong is the urge for multiple sex in present-day America.
A surface glance at the sexual practice of wife-swapping might lead to the conclusion that it is simply a manifestation of the desire for sexual variety. In other words, those couples who habitually trade partners in this manner do so only to expand their sex lives and vary their sexual experiences. This is true to an extent, but psychiatrists say that there are many other subtle motives for this sexual practice. Perhaps the most obvious feature of wife-swapping is that it has the effect of removing one of the major arguments against extra-marital sexual relations. It takes the element of guilt out of adultery.
It is relatively easy to understand how it has this effect. The guilt that arises in most instances of adultery is simply that one has deceived one's mate. The foremost fear of an adulterer is that he will be found out. Such fears and guilt often act as a deterrent to complete sexual gratification.
If your mate is committing adultery at the same time you are, and if both are aware of the situation, then guilt seems to disappear. Note the use of the word seems.
In his book, The Sexual Deviate, Dr. Benjamin Morse, M.D., tells of one housewife's reaction to such a situation.
"I used to have desires for other men at times," she stated, "but I felt it would be unfair to Howard, and I didn't want to wreck my marriage because I truly love him. So I kept those urges under control.
"Then one night, when we were all pretty drunk, the couple who were our best friends suggested we try the 'old switcheroo,' as Jack put it. Before we knew it, we had switched partners in the same bedroom and in twin beds, where we could all see what was going on. Now all my urges came out into the open. I knew I didn't have to keep infidelity a secret from Howard, because we were each doing the same thing and nobody was getting hurt."
The young wife's statements illustrate how this sort of group adultery eliminates, at least on the surface, not only the guilt of having cheated, but the guilt of having broken a moral law. When adultery is made a group project, each member of that group feels proportionally less guilty. Most psychiatrists state that sex without guilt is the ideal form; thus it is readily understandable how so many respectable couples have taken to this rising practice. It does improve their sex pleasure in that one respect.
There is a strong element of voyeurism in most of us. It is the desire or inclination to watch members of the opposite sex in the nude, or to watch couples in the sex act. This adds strongly to the attraction of mate-swapping. Let us hear the account of a twenty-nine-year-old man named Rex. Rex does not consider himself a sexual deviate by any standards. By psychiatric definition, he suffers extremely from voyeurism, masochism, and an inferiority complex having to do with sex.
"I knew I wasn't pleasing Mary in bed. To be truthful, she wasn't pleasing me very often, either. We both came from religious homes, and I just didn't have the guts to ask her to do some of the things I wanted to try out, like anal intercourse, fellatio and cunnilingus at the same time-the sixty-nine position. But the old-fashioned 'me-on-top,' or, occasionally, Mary taking the top position, was getting boring. I read about this wife-swapping bit, and I answered an ad in one of those underground papers.
"I told Mary that this was a swinging couple, but I didn't tell her that they were part of a sex orgy group, so she agreed to get together with them. The first evening we met with this couple, we had some drinks, then changed partners. Mary didn't object at all, but she insisted that we do it in separate rooms.
"When she got home that night, I was bursting to find out all about what positions she'd used, whether she had sucked Don's cock-all that kind of stuff. I guess I was far more interested in her sexual experiences that I was in mine, because I figured that I could adjust to anything in the sex line.
"I made her tell me in detail-including a running account of her inner feelings-about what had happened. It got me all hot when she told me. But instead of mounting her, I went into the bathroom and masturbated while envisioning Mary with this other man."
Rex' tremendous obsession with his wife's sexual activities shows us another motive for wife-swapping. As we can see, he engaged in this type of activity more because he wanted other men to have sex with his wife, than because he wanted to have sex with another woman. This is a strong indication that he was a masochistic type-that he got sexual kicks from being debased, and made to feel inferior. Psychiatrists state that this man, and those like him, strongly desired homosexual activity, but at the same time, was unwilling to participate overtly in homosexual acts. Through what psychiatrists call "transference," he was able to have such homosexual relations on an unconscious level by vicariously participating in his wife's sexual acts. He identified with her; and in his fantasies, it was he who was participating in the sex act with another man!
Rex continues: "It was only after we expanded out get-togethers to include four or five couples, and had sex with a 'no-holds-barred' attitude, that I really began to enjoy it. We talked it out, and all agreed that that phrase meant that if men wanted men, or women wanted sex with women, that was part of the game, and no questions asked.
"The first real sex orgy we had, I almost went wild! I was paired off with this woman, and I was watching one of the men sucking another guy's cock. The first thing I knew, I had this woman up on her hands and knees, and I was shoving it in her ass-hole! I kept my eyes on those two guys, and I swear, I came in her ass-hole at the same second the guy did who was being sucked off!
"Later, that same guy sucked my cock, while I was sucking Mary's pussy, but I got so carried away with having my prick in his mouth, that I didn't even concentrate on making her come-and that was the first time I had ever licked her pussy!
"Mary and I worked out a good sex life. She agreed to let me fuck her in the ass, and she always sucked my cock before we did any of the other things, and it worked out fine!"
Eventually, however, Rex insisted more and more on anal intercourse and fellatio, neglecting his wife's needs for normal intercourse, and, in her frustration, she filed for divorce. After it was granted, Rex became an out-and-out homosexual, while Mary continued on in the sex club and eventually married a divorced man whom she had met there.
Psychiatrists are almost unanimous in one belief concerning mate-swapping: that it eventually leads to many other deviations of a more violent nature. Says Dr. Benjamin Morse, "In my experience, I have never encountered a person who has been involved in wife-swapping who has not also participated in an extraordinary variety of sexual practices. Experiments with all conceivable coital positions, together with anal and oral copulation, are the rule in wife-swapping circles. Ventures into such deviant practices as flagellation, transvestism, and fetishistic behavior are also quite commonplace. The person who wants to have sex with a great many partners also wants to have sex in as many ways as possible, and for much the same reasons."
The appeal of wife-swapping is of no singular appeal to a special desire. In the sexual atmosphere of the present time, it seemingly offers a great deal to a great many, but the overall effects are scarcely so beneficial, as we shall learn from the account of June M., a woman of thirty-eight; pretty, shapely, intellectual and now a patient in a California mental institution.
"Both Joe and I were brought up in strict, inhibitive religious homes. We both were taught that sex was evil. I guess we both enjoyed sex in proportion to the evil we saw in it-the old 'forbidden fruit' angle. We had sex when we were going together but only in the regular way.
"Once or twice after we married, I tried to tell Joe that I wanted some variety. But we were both so damned guilt-ridden that we were afraid that each would think the other of us was a pervert or a queer, so we never did anything different. Then I discovered that Joe was going to this whore-she called herself a call girl, but she was a cheap bar pick-up, really. It used to sizzle me to think of the sex he was probably getting from that woman that I could probably do better and enjoy more. Finally, I faced him with it. He admitted it, claiming that he loved me, and had wanted all those things from me, but hadn't had the courage to try or to even talk about them.
"I had heard of this nine-couple mate-swapping club, right in our own neighborhood, and I was so mad that I insisted we join. I'm glad I did, in spite of everything that happened. For one thing, I learned that Joe was a fetishist. He was a pervert for analingus. He wanted to lick and suck the anus of a woman but he was too ashamed to try it on me. I learned, however, that in every case where he had had sex with another woman, he first had to lick her anus before he could get an erection!
"I never noticed this at first, because we started out by playing a game to determine partners. Or we'd have a ladies' night,' where the women chose their partners. Then, after everyone stripped, we would go to different rooms and indulge in whatever form of sex we wanted to. Even later on, when we started having the audience sex bouts, I didn't think anything of it when Joe always started by kissing the ass-hole of another woman. A couple of other men had done this also and some of the women had told me that they liked it as a warm-up for the real thing.
"I'd always wanted to put Joe's penis in my mouth and suck it until he came, but I hadn't dared. Then one night, when I was extra hot, I drew this one young married fellow; a handsome, muscular and charming man, and, according to the rules of the game that night, I had to do whatever he commanded. He demanded that I suck his penis! I admit, I was excited about it, but I was a little afraid of what Joe would think, because I'd never done it to him.
"We were all naked, and I got on my hands and knees over this fellow who was lying on the floor.
It was almost as much fun as I had thought it would be, seeing his eyes as he tried to watch me suck him off; feeling the spasms of joy go through his body. I was just getting warmed up to it when another man came over, mounted me from the rear and shoved his penis deep into my anus! It hurt a little at first, but when the others began to clap and whistle, I decided I wouldn't chicken out. So I let him finish, while I made the young fellow come.
"When we got home that night, Joe was a wild man. It wasn't jealousy-he just couldn't wait to get my clothes off and start. And, do you know what he did? He took the sixty-nine position, with his penis in my mouth, spread my legs wide, then my ass cheeks, and he just continued to lick and suck and bore my ass-hole with his tongue, until he came in my mouth! This was fine for him, but it didn't do a damned thing for me, and I told him so. But, when he tried to get hard to screw me, he couldn't. He finally got down and began to stick his tongue in my ass-hole again, and he finally got a good hard on. But when he tried to put it inside me, it folded up like a wet noodle! We ended up the evening's sex by him alternately licking my ass-hole and my vagina, while I masturbated my clitoris with my finger. Then he masturbated himself until he came.
"We went on in that frustrating way for weeks. The only real sexual satisfaction for me came at the sex orgies we attended. Oddly enough Joe could maintain his hard on after licking another woman's ass-hole. He consulted a psychiatrist friend of his, who told Joe bluntly that it was the old guilt hang-up that kept him from achieving an erection with me-he was ashamed that I knew he was an anal fetishist!
"We started our own club, only we kept it small, and we met three nights a week, so that Joe and I could have a half-way satisfactory sex life of our own.
"One night, while six of us were having an orgy in the living room, Joe's mother walked in, unannounced! Believe it or not, she had a heart attack, then and there! We rushed her to the hospital, and she later recovered. But from that moment on, all the old guilt-plus all the new guilts we had accumulated-came back to both Joe and me. I moved to the guest room and Joe went back to his whore. I couldn't stand the thought of a man touching me. What I had thought was so deliciously dirty, now became filth. Yet, I could masturbate and have an orgasm, while fantasizing about some of the sex brawls I had formerly engaged in. So long as they didn't include Joe!
"But I became irritable, and eventually, psychotic. I began to carp at Joe, blaming it all on him, until one night, I tried to kill him! He ran from the house and called the police, and I was sent to the hospital. Now, I'm glad he did. I'm going to make it, now.
"Joe divorced me the first year I was in here. I've been here eighteen months, and I'm ready to be released in another six weeks. I've gone back to my religion and my beliefs about sex. I doubt if I'll ever remarry, but I do hope to have some sort of a life. If I marry, it will have to be a man from the church. I've been the sex route. Maybe it's for some, but not for me. I'll be happy just to find a man for companionship, if that's the way it works out. But-who knows?"
Who indeed knows?
Says Dr. Donald Arbagian on this case: "Normally, society would not look upon the wife-swapper as a menace to society, nor would it recommend imprisonment or a mental institution, since no real damage has been done, as long as the consenting adults do this thing in privacy. However, this woman had become her own judge and executioner by succumbing to her own guilt feelings.
"Whether her return to her religious beliefs will be the answer, I cannot say. Sex appetites are volatile and once the chemical reaction has began, can it ever be effectively restrained?"
"I have consulted with many persons who have indulged their sexual appetites to the point of satiation. Usually, there is only one next step-sadomasochism. If this woman's guilt persists, he might well become an extreme masochist, feeling that she must be punished for her base nature and weaknesses. She would then be ripe for a cruel, sadistic man-or woman-to exploit. The more fanatic such persons become in their belief in religion as a refuge-a cure-all-the less chance they have of emerging as a healthy, sexually adjusted human being. Sex is an integral part of life. It should not be governed by religion, nor should it be observed as a religion-which is what a lot of these sex orgy clubs do. Sex tastes vary as much as do individual tastes in food. They should be, and hopefully one day will be, considered as a basic part of the total character of an individual, just as we tend to tolerate a man who happens to like mustard on his strawberries-as long as he does not force us to eat ours that way!"
As a final look at the sexual phenomenon of mate-swapping, it might be enlightening at least to skim over the case of Bill and Kate, a couple who are now under indictment for their activities in organizing and running a divorce swap club. Their story is true in every detail. Gleaned from the front pages of newspapers in the city where it took place, it has been condensed here. Bill begins:
"After ten years of happily married life, my first wife caught me making love to her best friend and divorced me. It was senseless, because I didn't care anything about that silly bleached blonde. I got drunk at a party one night and she cornered me in the den. My wife walked in on us while we were on the couch, naked. When she wailed, 'Why, Bill, why?, ' I gave her the same answer mountain climbers give when you ask them why-"because she was there." And it was the truth.
But six months after I was divorced, I met Kate. She had had a similar experience: caught by a jealous husband, beaten, tossed out and divorced. We took to each other right away. We laughed at the fact that if we hadn't been caught, we might still be happily married, for she too had loved her husband and not her lover.
"We started living together, trying to be faithful, but we had an agreement that both of us were free to do as we pleased-even sexually. But I felt like a ass. I reasoned that if a woman would toss me out after ten years of working my ass off for her, I must be a real ass. Kate had had a rough time after her divorce, too-all divorced women do. Most guys dating a divorcee figure that a dinner and a night out gets them a cheap, quick trip to the mattress.
"Kate told me that most divorced women do want sex, but they resent being treated like second-hand, marked-down goods. Anyhow, we joined one of the local country clubs. She worked and so did I, and we made good money. We had our own bunch, and were well-liked. Our closest friends were Jack and Sue. Jack was big, breezy, and witty-an outdoors guy; while Sue was cute, quite intelligent, and very quiet. First thing I knew, this little gal was getting to me-so bad that it began to affect my sex performance with Kate, who was no slouch in bed. One night, she surprised me with: "You want to go to bed with Sue, don't you?"
"We'd promised to be honest with each other, so I said, 'Yes.' Then she said, 'I've wondered what Jack would be like in bed, too.' We both were thinking the same thing, but I said that I didn't think Jack and Sue were that much 'with it.' We quickly agreed that you never knew until you tried, so we did. The next time they were to come over, I had my projector and screen set up, and was showing a film when they rang the bell. Jack asked what kind of movie I was showing, and I tried to blush as I told him it was a stag movie that Kate had begged me to let her see.
"Naturally, Jack wanted to see it, but I objected, because of Sue. He just laughed and told me that she wasn't as prissy as she might look. Sue seemed as eager to see it as Jack was, so away we went. While the film was running, Kate served some pretty potent highballs. Jack and Sue sat close, Kate and I did, also. While the film was running, Kate got up to freshen the drinks. Suddenly Sue came over and sat on my lap! When Kate saw what had happened, she calmly sat on Jack's lap. Halfway through the second reel, Kate took Jack by the hand and went into one of the bedrooms. Sue and I just used the couch, and she was great. We tried it straight, then sixty-nine. It was that experience that gave me the idea for the club.
"Later, we talked about it-the four of us. We agreed that the other guy's woman was terrific, not because she was better, but because she was different!
"Later that month, we were invited by Jack to spend a weekend at the country home of his boss. We were surprised to find that the older couple were real swingers-and so were the ten other guests who were there. It was a weekend of musical beds, so to speak, and I made up my mind right then that if this was the way people were getting their sex kicks, then there must be a way to make some money out of it.
"The old boy was all right. He admitted he liked younger women, but not the cheap showgirl, prostitute type. Before the visit was over, he'd agreed to loan me $40,000 to buy a house nearby that could be converted into a real swinging sex club!
"He even used his business experience to help me and Kate organize and incorporate the 'Society for the Study of Inter-Family Relationships in Primitive Tribes.' As a cultural organization, our expenses, trips, and get-togethers became tax-exempt! To keep the riffraff out, we set a high entrance fee and high monthly dues.
"I was certain there would be many more male applicants than females, but was I ever wrong! We ran ads in magazines, asking questions like, 'Are you married but bored?', 'Are you divorced and at loose ends?, ' 'Are you emancipated and blessed with a free-wheeling mind?', and then I described how the membership fees included use of the grounds, the pool, etc., as well as certain tax-exempt benefits.
"I expected two or three hundred replies-and received over 3,000! We had decided to limit the membership to two hundred, so we weeded out the unlikely ones as well as the obvious nuts and the degenerates. When we finished, we found that we had almost seventy-five percent women applicants! Then we narrowed it down to our limit and threw a big shindig at the place. Jack's boss picked up the tab. Each guest paid his entrance fee at that time, and it was a real ball. They all knew what they wanted, and there were no rules except against getting drunk and disorderly.
"People naturally paired off, and after a sex session with one partner, they would both return and choose a fresh one. There were plenty of secluded nooks and rooms, plus ten acres of grounds, and it was a real stately sex ball, if you could use that term.
"It went off so well that Kate and I decided to open a couple of branches in other cities. By the end of the third year, we had franchised clubs in New York, New Orleans, Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami and San Francisco.
"Usually Kate interviewed male applicants and I interviewed the women. I was curious to see what kind of a person would answer a sex ad. To my surprise, I found most of them were attractive, sympathetic and, for the most part, lonely women who simply needed sex. They just didn't know how to go about getting it in their own communities while still maintaining a semblance of respectability.
"One girl-Dora-was a tall, curvaceous redhead with a dazzling smile and a charming personality. In the interview she said, 'I was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-six. I'm young, healthy, active. I'm not promiscuous, but I like good sex with different men. In this age of the pill, why should I be forced to remarry in order to have a full sex life?'
"Another woman gave this background: 'I was depressed after my husband divorced me. I hated men. I was so despondent and disoriented that I almost lost my job. Then my boss, an older man, took over. He was kind and understanding and I became his mistress. He died recently. I can't date younger men-I'm no floozy. Besides, younger men are selfish and demanding, and sometimes cruel. They don't take care of you when you need them. They can't come through, in a pinch, like older men do.'
"Well, we had them all ages and sizes and with all types of personalities and we managed to keep everyone happy. One man told Kate, 'I always look for a girl I really go for, then we live together until the attraction wears thin. I've been married and somehow, after the knot has been tied, women change. They don't cater to you like they do when it's a living-in-sin deal.'
"Many married couples applied, and Kate and I interviewed them together. I always dug deep into the reasons why a married couple would want to indulge in sexual swapping. As one middle-aged man put it, 'After twenty years of married life, my sex drive fell away to nothing. I got so I didn't care where my wife went, just so I didn't have to go along. Then I went to Vegas for a convention, hooked up with a showgirl for a couple of nights, and discovered that I still had a lot of sex drive left-with another woman! Then my wife discovered me screwing a young next-door-neighbor on her kitchen table. When my wife walked in, all she said was: 'Really, Arthur! On the kitchen table?' That broke everybody up, and later that night, I slept with the girl and my wife ended up in bed with her husband; Now, we can have some sex fun, even if we are in our fifties!"
"Finally, the authorities cracked down on our clubs. Their method was cancellation of our tax-exemption as a cultural society, a status which several states had also questioned. They hit us with a tax bill for five years. Of course, the real reason was because of the pressure of a bunch of Bluenoses who couldn't stand the thought of mature adults living mature sex lives as they wanted to.
"What's wrong with a couple of thousand men and women being happy and not harming anyone-not boozing it up to drunkenness, not using drugs or LSD or pot? In my experience with the clubs, I found that people who are fulfilled sexually are the happiest, most productive persons in society. Their outlook is healthy. I maintain that if there were a thousand such clubs, you would see , an end to alcoholism, drug addiction, prostitution, and a hell of a lot of other problems. Most of all, you'd see an end to a hell of a lot of marital unhappiness! And I'll fight to the Supreme Court for this. To the freedom of speech, freedom of religion and freedom of political choice, we should add the freedom of sexual behavior!"