Roger and I were hardcore swingers. We attended two parties a week during the two and a half years we were together.
We were going to miss this week's Saturday night party because we were on our way to a once a year, two-day Swing Party in southern Illinois. We'd never been to one before, but our friends who had said, "You have to go." When we pressed them for details, they were closed mouth and said, "Go. You'll never forget it, especially the Oil Room. Their reluctance to say anything more piqued Roger's and my interest, so I got the party's number, called, and spoke to a man named Wes.
Wes said, "He and his wife Susan, hosted the party at their home and asked how we'd heard about it. He also wanted to know how familiar we were with swinging and what parties we'd attended."
I said, "We'd been into the lifestyle over a year, which parties we attended, and how we learned about his party."
He seemed satisfied with my answers and told me the party's date and location. "He said, "There are no indoor sleeping accommodations, so if you want to stay overnight, you'll have to bring a tent or sleeping bags." Roger and I weren't into camping, but we did have sleeping bags.
Wes's last words before he hung up were, "Don't forget to bring a bottle of oil."
Saturday morning came too soon. Roger and I had partied harder than usual and didn't get home until after two. The nightstand clock read 8:11 when I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. Boy, did I smell ripe? It was the era before condoms. I didn't mind the odor (neither did Roger), but the people at tonight's party might feel different, so the first thing I did was douche. Then I showered, shampooed my hair, and cleaned up the outline of my pussy hair. It was tinted bright red and shaved in the shape of a heart. I'd shaved my legs the night before. I was stepping out of the shower when Roger stepped in, kissed me hard on the lips, and slapped my ass. "Great party, it's too bad we had to get up so early."
It was a great party. I'd been fucked by three different guys, but I hadn't had my morning coffee, so I didn't feel much like talking. I mumbled, "Yea, it was," or something to that effect and headed for the kitchen. After two cups of coffee and a toasted English muffin (with honey), I felt almost human, but not overly ambitious.
Roger was fully dressed and smelled of aftershave when he strode into the kitchen twenty minutes later. "Com' on babe, get your ass in gear, we have a long drive."
I pulled myself together, and we were almost ready to leave by 11. We'd packed everything we thought we'd need (overnight kits, extra clothes -mostly sexy,-blankets, Vodka, Tequila, and sleeping bags) into the trunk of Roger's car.
"Did you pack the oil and weed?"
I patted my purse. "Right here."
It was a little after two when we pulled up to an old Tudor with sprawling grounds.
I was surprised to see so many people and so many tents. We parked in the designated area and asked a passing couple where we could find the host and hostess.
"You mean Wes and Susan? They're walking around here someplace," the man said. He told us what they looked like, and we set off. We found them talking to a couple around their age (late '40s) and introduced ourselves. Wes was about 5'10, a little shorter than Roger, with unruly brown hair and a two day's growth of beard. He reminded me of a pirate. All that was missing was the eye patch and sword between his teeth. Susan looked nothing like the wenches one associated with pirates. She was my height (5' 2") but a good fifteen pounds heavier, most of it around her hips. My weight was in my tits, 34 C's. Susan's hair, unlike mine (long and stick straight), was short and curly. She looked like a housewife. I looked like a bar girl or a hooker. I was wearing bright red lipstick (the same color as my pussy) and 'kick-ass' eye make-up. I thought, "Oh well, to each their own." Wes told us about the rules. Be friendly and treat people the way you want to-be-treated. The only addition was their house. It was off-limits.
"Any questions?"
After we said, "No," Wes volunteered to show us around.
Susan begged off and said, "I have to check on the food."
Wes pointed out the long tables and wooden benches for seating and the buildings where we could change, wash up, etc. The toilets were separate.
I pointed to a building near the back of the property. "What's that?"
"The Oil Room," Wes said.
So, that's the legendary Oil Room. It didn't look like much. It was the size of a three-car garage, with blacked-out windows and a bright red door. A small wooden table stood next to the door.
Roger stared at the weathered structure. "What's in there?"
"I'll show you later."
When the tour was over, we thanked Wes for his time, handed him our donation (cash only), and went to find a place to lay out our sleeping bags. We'd almost finished when Wes came walking our way.
"Got a minute?" he said.
Roger looked up from the joint he was rolling. "Got all the time in the world."
"I don't know if anyone's told you, but we have a tradition when it comes to newbies like yourselves and the Oil Room."
