Swinging

I find myself remembering something from long ago as I go down on Mara…. It’s the taste of an Israeli pussy.

Jen begged me to fuck her. Well, sort of begged. I was feeling generous.

Mara and Jen and I have a fuck-load of fun at Le Trapeze. And not just with the three of us.

Le Trapeze is skeezy. But I don’t need other people to have fun with Jen.

A short dress, a dark bar, a sex party, and three marathon sessions between her thighs.

Snap judgments, Birkenstocks, and ostrich burgers: a date that was over before it started.

White clothes, a river breeze, and twelve couples stripping down at a landmark.

Before I tell you about the boat, T and I need to negotiate what our son might one day read — and somehow that leads to the word “Daddy,” Oedipus, and my mother.

People always want to label themselves: swinger, poly, kinkster, slut. I hate labels.

Of course the sex party was in a synagogue. For this secular Jew, it felt like coming home.