True Stories Of Wife Swapping

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True Stories Of Wife Swapping

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The intimate, the harrowing, the sweet, the surprising — the human.
Because there’s lots of Hollywood outside of Hollywood.
It was the tail end of 2014 and I had recently gotten back together with my ex-girlfriend. We had been broken up for about a year at that point, and many things had changed in our lives. I had just been accepted into East Carolina University, and she had just lost custody of her three children and moved into a subsidized apartment. A true match made in heaven. 
Jojotaxi – kunena – topic: anabolic bodybuilding injection (1/1) super tadarise healthrider hrccel49010 home weight system manuals, user guides and other materials. Things were going well, so we decided to give it another go. I was renting a room from some friends and getting royally screwed on the deal, and she was trying to get her life back together while living in an affordable apartment that was much closer to school than my current place. Also, the sex was always amazing. 
I was approved to move in and the ball was rolling. In the weeks leading up to my move, I spent most of my free time with her at the new place and got to know some of the natives.
He repeatedly made inappropriate comments about my girlfriend while simultaneously encouraging me to check out his wife. The not-so-subtle message was clear: swapping. 
One couple stood out. The wife was a pleasant middle-aged woman and the husband was an older man. They had been married for years and had two children. I was introduced by my girlfriend, as they were already well acquainted with one another. We also all had a shared affinity for strong beverages. 
I noticed some serious red flags immediately. As I mentioned before, the wife was very pleasant. However, the husband was clearly batshit. Within minutes of meeting each other, he began insisting that I take shots of his cheap whiskey and became very aggressive. He repeatedly made inappropriate comments about my girlfriend while simultaneously encouraging me to check out his wife. The not-so-subtle message was clear: swapping . 
I am no prude by any means, but neither me nor my girlfriend was feeling it. We had both engaged in threesome situations before and would have welcomed the wife into our semi-conjugal bed, but the thought of my girlfriend having sex with that creepy old man repulsed both of us. However, there was no way to politely convey that to Mr. Creeps, so we exchanged some pleasantries and hightailed it out of Dodge. 
Time passed and Mr. Creeps started to ramp up the crazy. He obsessively contacted my girlfriend through her phone and social media and would become belligerent if she didn’t respond. He also knocked on her door multiple times a day and would not desist. I still hadn’t moved in with her, but it was clear that I needed to act immediately before this problem escalated. 
I mulled it over and decided that direct confrontation would be a bad idea. I was a healthy and capable man in my mid-30s with a temper, and he was weak and mouthy. I could already see that situation resulting in a trip to prison and a trip to the morgue, respectively. I settled on a congenial but strongly worded email. He ceased harassing my girlfriend, and I considered the problem solved. 
Author Justin Jones in the neighborhood.
Source Photo Illustration by Sean Culligan/Courtesy of Justin Jones
I moved in, and everything seemed rosy. The apartment was nice, and my girlfriend and I were getting along. However, issues arose when I attempted to be friendly with my neighbors.
People in the complex would refuse to acknowledge me. On multiple occasions people glared at me like one glares at a pedophile . Eventually, the few residents who talked to us came forward: Someone had started a rumor that I was a pedophile, and it spread like wildfire. My neighbors had been told that I molested my girlfriend’s children, and that was why they were placed in custody. (Disclaimer: When my girlfriend’s children were removed from her care, it was because she was financially incapable of paying utilities and was without running water. We were not together at the time.) 
It was easy to pinpoint where the rumors started. I felt enraged and helpless. As angry as I was before, my current rage was worse. If the prison/morgue dynamic was a possibility before, it was an inevitability now. All I could do was damage control. 
Eventually the situation subsided. I spoke with my neighbors at length, and they began to realize that I was a decent guy who was falsely accused. It also didn’t hurt that Mr. Creeps was becoming a pariah because of his behavior. Even his wife and children began using our home as a sanctuary. 
One morning I stepped outside, and I saw a commotion in front of Mr. Creeps’ apartment. A sheriff’s car was in front, and there was an audience. Soon, Mr. Creeps was escorted into the car in handcuffs and driven away. Apparently, he got liquored up and put his hands on his wife and kids for the nth time. In North Carolina Section 8 housing, it is an automatic eviction if you are arrested on the property, so he never came back. His family was simply relieved. His kids told us that the beating was worth it to have him gone. In the following weeks, we saw a sense of peace within the family that didn’t exist before. They moved shortly thereafter.
But not before his wife shared a wild night with us in our semi-conjugal bed. I feel terrible for what he put his family through, but I also can’t help but feel vindicated. The same man who spread vile rumors about me to my neighbors was arrested in front of the neighborhood.
Also: sex with his wife. So, some well-deserved happiness all around. Good times. Better times.

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I lay on my bed and looked up at the ceiling as my new husband, Robert*, rolled off me.
Maybe we just need to practise, I told myself.
Robert was very prim and proper so we hadn't had sex before we'd got married.
We'd met when I was 19 and he was 23.
I didn't have much confidence and didn't think anyone would ask me to marry them so when Robert did, I said yes.
There was little chemistry between us but I assumed once we were man and wife our sex life would take off.
A year after our marriage we had a son, John, and five years later our daughter, Rachel, followed.
I wasn't happy in our marriage, but I didn't know any different.
Then we bought a plot of land to build our house and a year later met our new neighbours Rita and Terry.
Terry was short, dark and thickset, the complete opposite to my tall, fair husband.
Robert was a lecturer whereas Terry was a tradie.
Terry and Rita seemed a strange match.
While Terry's hands were usually covered in engine oil from tinkering with his car, Rita was always beautifully made up.
Rita and I became friends and we'd talk for hours over the back fence.
One day, another friend lent me a series of self-help books.
One chapter that stuck in my head was about couples who swapped partners – swinging.
I wondered what it would be like with another man.
I longed for someone to sweep me into his arms for a night of unbridled passion.
Next day, I passed the books over the fence to Rita: "These will open your eyes," I said.
Later that week, I was hanging out the washing when Rita appeared.
"Swinging sounds thrilling," she said, a sly smile creeping across her face.
Giggling, we agreed to ask our husbands what they thought.
Especially when Rita told me that Terry was up for it.
Three weeks later, out of the blue, Robert came home from work with an announcement.
"I've changed my mind," he said. "Let's give it a try."
Excited, Rita and I came up with a plan.
Our families would go on a two-week caravanning holiday together that summer.
The first week, Robert and Rita would have a day away together and the following week, it would be my turn to have some fun with Terry.
Each couple could do whatever they wanted but the rule was they weren't allowed to talk about it with their spouse afterwards.
We started inviting Rita and Terry to our house to play cards in the evenings, so we could get to know one another better.
Doing something so normal, while knowing what lay ahead, made us feel naughty and excited.
"I don't think I can wait until the summer," Rita confessed to me one afternoon.
She and Robert went to a hotel while Terry and I looked after the kids.
Once the little ones were in bed, Terry and I threw ourselves at each other.
Later that night, Robert wanted to know if anything had happened.
"We're not supposed to talk about it," I said.
But he kept asking and eventually I told him.
It turned out he and Rita had pulled over in the car and started kissing but at the last minute, Robert lost his nerve.
The following week, Terry and I went out to give Rita and Robert another chance and this time they ended up sleeping together.
Before long, the caravan holiday rolled around and Robert and Rita went off together to a nearby hotel.
They were supposed to come back before the kids went to bed, but as night fell there was no sign of them.
It was the 1970s so there were no mobile phones, all we could do was wait until they finally turned up late that evening.
The following day, we set off for a different campsite.
But Robert took a turn and wound up in hospital with sunstroke.
Although I was fond of him, I wasn't in love.
And just like that, our marriage was finished.
When we got home, Rita and Robert said we needed to talk.
"We've decided to give our relationship a go," Rita announced.
They said they were going to set up home together and all four children would live with them.
I'd never expected our holiday to end like this.
I didn't want to tell my parents what was going on, and without a job, I had no money to support myself and the children.
In the end, it was agreed that I would live with Terry temporarily, and my daughter Rachel would stay with us along with Terry's youngest daughter.
As I lay in bed that night in a filthy house, just next door to my lovely home, I sobbed uncontrollably.
It had all happened so quickly and now I was with a man I barely knew.
The next day, a bailiff came knocking at the door and I discovered Terry was in huge debt.
Over the next few months, I tried to make the best of a bad situation.
I got a job as a secretary and worked on my relationship with Terry.
Although I wasn't in love with him, the sex was incredible.
A year after the wife swap, Robert and Rita moved away.
Terry was extremely possessive, and we had furious arguments.
After living with him for seven years, I left him and moved back in with my parents with Rachel, who barely spoke to her father.
It's been 46 years and I still think about the wife swap and all the hurt it caused.
Although I didn't love Robert, we'd created a stable home.
But the swap split Rachel and her brother John up, and ruined her relationship with her dad.
I can't believe I risked the safety of our marriage for a single night of passion.
It's the greatest regret of my life.
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I just wanted to spice up my sex life, but as I lay in bed next to my neighbour I wondered what I'd done.
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March 24, 2019 August 24, 2021 |
Saurabh Dalal



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September 4, 2021 September 4, 2021
Saurabh Dalal is interested in exploring how the institution of marriage founded on the principal of monogamy is inherently at loggerheads with basic human nature. Yet, supported by religion, society and culture it has managed to survive till now. With increasing awareness and a newfound liberalism in society, it’s getting challenged every passing day. This conflict at both micro and macro levels interests him a lot.
all about love and couple relationships in their varied forms. We celebrate the happy, imperfect love without judgment or bias, and strive to help people love more mindfully by viewing their relationship patterns from the lens of mental health and psychology. We’re your one-stop destination for unraveling the mystery that is love.
For those of you who are catching up with this series midway, I suggest reading the first part . My wife Shweta and I are a modern Indian working couple. We love each other and are high on life. We planned a vacation to Ooty with a couple, close friend Sharad and his wife Swati. Unknown to them, they have been a recurrent part of our fantasy and role-playing in bed. This a story of partner swapping that you need to read.
The next few days disappeared in a whirlwind as we completed our packing and made arrangements with my in-laws to take care of our little princess. The day before the flight, we were alone at home. I pulled out my laptop and we sat down to make our profile on the same partner swapping site where Sharad had made one.
The site prompted us to describe what we were looking for in a couple. We had a hearty laugh as Shweta poured her heart out describing Sylvester Stallone and I visualized an Angelina Jolie lookalike as we typed it out. We saved our profile and Shweta started browsing other profiles, “My God, this is a world of its own. Look at the pictures of this couple.” The profiles we browsed were arousing her, as her breath quickened, and her hands massaged my back. We had a fantasy of a couple swapping.
Ping! Suddenly there was a message on the screen from an ID called sweet_couple. “Hi! ASL please?” Shweta looked at me, confused. “What do they want? What’s ASL?” I shrugged. Seemed like some code word among swingers. “What’s ASL?” typed Shweta. “Age Sex Location” pat came the reply. Now we were more confused. Whose Age and Sex should we type? Mine, or hers? Shweta replied “We are a couple. U?” “We too. M34 F32 Mumbai.” We understood and replied, “M30 F27 Mumbai.” “Great! What do you do?” sweet_couple responded.
This started a series of messages on what we were looking for, if we were experienced or not, whether we had a place to meet, whether we were ready for a casual meeting, and so on. We didn’t know the couple swapping in India was so organised. Click here to read: My wife is a sex-addict. 
There were so many abbreviations and new terms that we became familiar with as the messages flew back and forth. ASL, SRSP, SWAP, RP, Bulls, Unicorns…it was a whole new game. It was getting late. We signed off after promising sweet_couple that we’d get in touch soon.
Next morning, at the airport, there was different chemistry between the four of us when we hugged each other. Swati was wearing a colourful crop top and a skirt. I couldn’t help stealing a glance at her model-perfect body . Normally I compliment her whenever we meet. But today, I was tongue-tied. “She looked hot,” remarked Shweta, as we entered our room at the resort. I knew who she was referring to. “So, are you ready to go ahead if something happens?” I asked nonchalantly. “Dunno. Are YOU?” she parried. Neither of us answered, but we both knew this trip was different.
A message from Sharad popped up on my mobile, “Let’s meet at 7 pm in the lounge.” I sent him a thumbs up. It pinged again, “BTW, did you make that profile on The Adult Hub?” I smiled and sent a second thumbs up and a smiley. I got a big smiley in response. We both knew we were on the same wavelength now. The game was on.
We had just ordered our cocktails when Sharad and Swati walked in. As I hugged her more tightly and longer than I usually do, her cheeks turned pink. We chatted generally when suddenly Sharad remarked,” So how did you like the website?” “Oh, it’s a completely new world,” Shweta chimed in, even before I could think of a proper response. That set the ball rolling. Soon, we were giggling and discussing the profiles we saw there. As the evening progressed, the electricity between us was palpable. I could read desire in Swati’s eyes and I am sure she could see it in mine. All four of us knew that there was only one way this evening was going to end. In bed. And for two out of four, probably not in the beds in our rooms.
The dance began and soon we were dancing with each other’s partners. It seemed natural. As we danced to a slow number, I couldn’t help asking Swati “Do you like me?” “Of course, four of us are best friends, right?” She replied looking into my eyes. “No, not like that. I meant do you feel attracted to me?” She lowered her eyes and smiled. I felt elated.
I tightened my clasp on her hand. She responded by squeezing back. We were both on a high as if on our first date. I pulled her closer and looked up across the room and saw my best friend resting his head against my wife’s neck.
Even in that low light, I could see that their bodies were closer to each other than most other dance partners on the floor.
We hardly danced or sat with our wives for the rest of the evening. When we finally left for our rooms, our hands were still holding each other’s spouse’s hands. I swiped my room key and the door lock buzzed open. The moment of truth was here. I hesitated.
Sharad opened his room still holding Shweta’s hands and in a tone reminiscent of a cheesy Hindi film villain asked, “Mind if I borrow your wife for some time?” “Not at all as long as I am spending some quality time with this beautiful lady here,” I answered naughtily.
He guffawed and didn’t even bother to answer as he entered his room with Shweta in tow. As the door closed behind the two of them, I looked again at Swati. She looked into my eyes. “Are we going to stand outside the room all night?” she asked. I pushed open the door and we went in together. Our partner swapping agenda was complete.
Written with so much sensitivity … The adrenaline rush when you see your partner entering into the room with another partner …
Can so relate to it … Been in swapping fo
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