A 60-ish woman named Louise shows off the “limp-free gait” resulting from her recent hip-replacement surgery, while bragging about her great new osteoporosis medication. Mona’s cosmetic surgery cannot obscure her liver spots, and another woman, most likely in her 80s, sits unaware of the high-pitched squeal of her hearing aid.
These were the last three women in the world that author Daniel Stern, younger than anyone here by more than three decades, expected to find when he accepted the invitation to this orgy.
In “Swingland,” the Los Angeles-based Stern hilariously recounts his life in the swingers community, which is known by those who participate as simply The Lifestyle. Equal parts memoir and guidebook, “Swingland” offers advice for anyone who wants to experience a broader range of sexual experiences, while explaining how he evolved from a nebbishy single guy with performance issues to the stud of the wife-sharing circuit.
After unsuccessfully seeking casual sex on various websites for months, he finally found Shayla, a large woman who, given their “battling body types” and her “quicksand-like mattress,” made for a partner with whom sex was “a losing battle of position, balance and leverage.” Despite much struggling, they finally managed to find a workable position, even though her “silk sheets refused to absorb even one drop of our sweat and created a sort of Slip ’N Slide.”
But the worst part came when, having finally completed the act, Shayla excitedly exclaimed, “I’m officially no longer a virgin!”
As he got into the actual swinging scene, the parties he attended included many all-male-but-one outings, which take a greater amount of coordination than — and can be exactly as awkward as — one might expect.
During his first, he was surprised at the uncomfortable interval between arriving and getting it on, and found that the other men, similarly discomforted, calmed their nerves by discussing home renovations.
“Knowing the sexual perversity about to transpire,” he writes, “I couldn’t reconcile that I was suddenly in an episode of ‘Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.’ ”
Once the action commenced, the bed was so packed with writhing bodies that it resembled “those adult-size obstacle courses in Japanese game shows where heavily padded contestants gallop through life-size Mouse Trap-esque challenges.” As his turn approached, he was naked and just seconds from beginning when, amidst the chaos, he slammed his head into the ceiling fan.
Another night, the woman was so loud that at one point, a deaf participant said out loud, “Even I heard that,” sending the room into fits of laughter.
In The Lifestyle, strange encounters abound. One man insisted on providing his wife with gentle, loving dirty talk while Stern was having sex with her.
Another couple seemed to have jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell painting to host a holiday orgy, including wearing Christmas sweaters and having made brownies and cookies. Before the festivities began, the husband made a welcome speech that ended with, “Merry Christmas and let’s get naked.” Later on, his wife, who was “in a Santa hat on all fours,” interrupted herself orally pleasing a man to tell a few new arrivals, “Try the fudge. I made it myself.”
While he’s on the topic, Stern lays out rules for hosting and attending such parties, and they’re often no different from those for parties where anonymous strangers don’t disrobe and pleasure each other in groups. (Although to little surprise, even swingers are fed up with Evite reminders.)
“Don’t come empty-handed,” he advises orgy attendees. “Someone has spent time and effort (and often their own money) executing the party at which you are, essentially, being spoon-fed sex. Bring something other than your libido to express your gratitude. Often, I contribute a fruit plate.”
More specifically, Stern shares how, when seeking to be the single male in an MFM scenario, the abbreviation for a heterosexual threesome with two men and a woman (as opposed to MMF, which indicates some male bisexuality), the husband of the woman will often conduct an interrogation of the single man akin to how a protective father grills his young daughter’s date.
Stern recalls one such conversation.
“Bob queried about my turn-ons and turn-offs, fantasies and experience,” he writes. “With the broad brushstrokes of our sexual proclivities aligned, it was what was behind our conversation that would decide things that night. Strip away the words and my talk with Bob had really been: ‘Should I allow you to have sex with my wife?’ ‘Yes, please.’ ‘Convince me.’ ”
In addition to the awkwardness, Stern addresses the fear, danger and even injury that can occur when engaged in such practices.
And while he takes many precautions to keep himself safe — more often that not, physical encounters happen only after weeks or even months of online communication, followed by a public in-person meeting — the specter of danger is never too far away.
He tells of asking a Lifestyle veteran friend who has hosted lots of parties if he ever had concerns about allowing strangers into his home.
“In response, he reached beneath the couch cushion on which he was sitting and produced this steak knife,” Stern writes. “He then walked to a bookcase and removed a butterfly knife tucked between some votive candles. Finally, he pointed to a decorative box on the coffee table and told me to open it. Inside, a stun gun.
‘Ever use any of these?’ I asked.
‘Once,’ he admitted. ‘That guy isn’t invited back.’ ”