As a virgin to the swinging world, I was filled with trepidation when I was invited to a hotel in Blackpool catering to lovers of group sex. I imagined a room full of predatory people, dressed up to the nines in saucy underwear, ready to pounce on a newbie like me. I was imagining glamorous red velvet sofas, strawberries dipped in chocolate and the whole place geared up for sex.
The reality was a million miles from that. I turned up to a very ordinary looking hotel, with a functional bar and people in couples or on their own, not in the first flush of youth, sitting around chatting and drinking – fully clothed in very ordinary garb! There was a very beige looking buffet of sausage rolls and garlic baguettes and it smelt of beer – just like an old-fashioned pub.
There were playrooms – with huge beds where the action was destined to take place. There were mirrors everywhere, even on the ceiling, and windows where curtains could be drawn across for privacy or left open should anyone have exhibitionist tendencies or want to watch from outside. But rather than being seductive they were functional.
The owner, Sue, told me that the rooms were often hired out to people making adult films. She explained, “Whenever they were filming we’d find little sachets of Gaviscon littering the place. I couldn’t work out why, until I asked the producer and he explained that sometimes it was used to simulate a ‘money shot’ in the films.”
She then showed me to my bedroom, it was small and the décor was a little tired, and I couldn’t help but look at the chest of drawers and decide I would put it against the door should it all get too much for me later on.
But that was my first surprise far from being predatory, everyone there was achingly polite and very keen to make it clear that the first rule of swinging was consent and that you were more likely to be groped in an ordinary nightclub. Happily, that was proven to be right, at no time did I feel concerned for my safety.
I made it clear I was there for an article and didn’t want to take part in anything and everyone was cool with that and happy to tell me their stories.
There was a woman there who was so open with her son that they ended up going to swinging clubs together – though they made sure never to be in the same playroom as they drew the line at seeing each other getting hot and sweaty. They were so ordinary in every way, she worked in a shop and he worked in a bar, I’d never have guessed they were secret swingers. I’m not sure what I expected, perhaps a more seductive look, or a naughty expression.
Then there was a woman in her 40s, she was a full-time mum to three children, and admitted she’d conceived her son at a swingers party and had no idea who the father was. And the married man who was there with his girlfriend, he explained that his wife wasn’t into group sex, so he had a girlfriend to go to parties with behind his wife’s back. He then showed me photos of his extremely swollen and infected eye, that he’d got through an STD. Though he did say that he now stuck to the usual swinging rule of absolutely no action without condoms.
The extraordinary thing was that about an hour after I arrived it was as if there was a secret signal that it was time for the action to start. One moment everyone was sitting around chatting and the next people were peeling off to go into the playrooms in groups of three or four.
I mostly stayed in the bar area and waited for people to come back. One woman returned and told me that she’d given a man manual stimulation…and then proceeded to pass me some garlic bread without washing her hands. I politely declined.
Rather than being an atmosphere of seduction it all seemed very matter of fact and business-like. People would disappear off and then come back to drink their pints and chat again, there was no signs of affection or after-play in the bar area. And a quick walk past the four playrooms yielded no moans of pleasure, it was all strangely silent.
After an hour or so I’d got the gist – and decided to make my excuses and go to bed. I wasn’t the first to leave, but I most certainly wasn’t the last – the action normally carries on until the early hours of the morning.
Once tucked up in bed I thought over the night’s events. It was nothing like I expected it to be – it all felt very functional rather than sexy, as if everyone there had got bored of playing Monopoly so started on sex games instead. The people were very ordinary, working in everything from manual labour to the legal profession – it made me look at my friends with new eyes…anyone could be indulging in group sex and I’d never guess. And I haven’t eaten a garlic baguette since.