The Obeast at the Orgy : Part V (NSFW Story, The Swingers Industrial Strength Swing) Shitlady : "You've got to post about last night!" Shitlord Sandow : "But lover, I said no more swingers stories on FPH.  We don't want to scare off potential partners because of a few hams." Shitlady : "Remind them that there's nothing hotter than having your wife coach another woman on how to use her tongue on your cock.  If they deny themselves that pleasure because a few cows wander off the plains and into a club, than that's a shame." My shitlady took me on a surprise club night last Friday.  A surprise in that neither one of us had been to this particular place before, but had heard good things about it.  We're in CA which is a mixed blessing.  There are lots of adventurous couples but also tons (literal) of neckbeards with porky wives.  You'd think that living in a basement would produce fit neckbeards because they'd have to climb at least one flight of stairs to go out, but you'd be wrong.  Cursed genetics!  All that huffing and puffing on the stairs and they still look like a fat avalance about to crush a sleepy mountain village. This club was the most elaborate we've been to, and that's saying something.  It's in a sprawling structure in the hills, not too far away.  When you enter the club you pay a cover charge at the door, sign a waver, and are then swept into a room with a glittering dance floor.  The owner must have gotten a great deal on mirrors because every surface is covered with one, including the tables along the wall.  Past the floor and DJ podium are doors which take you further inside.  Off to the right is access to a courtyard for smoking and on the left is the entrance to fun rooms.   Shitlady and I arrive sort of early to get the tour and fill out papers.  We weren't the first couple to arrive, so there was plenty of eyecandy as we walked through the club with the owner.  He escorted us to the fun rooms and pointed out the highlights.  A dungeon themed room!  A I-shit-you-not spaceship themed room! (Think Fifth Element with dildos)  A padded cell featuring a closet with straightjackets.  I'm wondering how I'll explain awkward bruises to my gym buddies when we go past : The Swing. Between two aisles of beds is a sex swing.  You know what a sex swing looks like, right?  Right.  But this contraption is a warped parody of whatever you're picturing.  It's massive.  It's suspended from the ceiling with chains thick enough to dock a tanker in rough seas.  The saddle was wide enough to sit two normal humans side by side.  If you know anything about sex, sitting side by side defeats the purpose no matter how agile you are.  The seat was leather, and if it didn't require more than one cow in it's construction I'll eat the entire thing chains and all. The horrifying conclusion hit me right between the eyes.  This swing was meant to hold a single occupant.  A single, grotesquely swollen occupant.   I collapsed onto a solid shelf nearby and got my next horrifying revelation.  The chair I was sitting on wasn't just to catch the occasional mind-benumbed shitlord.  It was there to be used in conjunction with the swing.  The chair was more shelf than furniture.  It was was bolted to the wall and floor as though someone was afraid it would develop sentience and run away.  I would too, and didn't blame the chair.  This area was designed so that a She-hippo could sit in the swing, while a Ham sat passively in a chair facing her.  They could then twist Newton's Laws of motion to slap fupas using gravity alone.  She wouldn't have to move, he wouldn't have to move.  The grim act could be accomplished by nothing more than physics and an uncaring god. Later I joked with the owner about the setup and he revealed himself to be a subtle shitlord.  He pointed out how most of the zones for naked play were accessed by narrow stairs and ladders.  The orgy playrooms were built in an open two-story structure with landings all around.  There were beds on the main floor, but the majority of padded multi-couple spaces were a good 10 feet up.  Well played, orgymaster.  He also enforces a strict "no drinks, no food" policy in the zone.  It's explained as a safety/cleanliness rule but is actually to keep the Butterslugs at the buffet and out of the bedroom.  Even so, he confessed to occasionally finding Twizzlers trampled under the swing in the morning and has yet to catch culprits.  Shitlady and I met a sexy couple and we exchange names, knowing looks and then kisses.  All is going well, so we trot off to the play area to figure out how much flesh we can stroke before someone starts singing soprano.  We all have a great time, I experience the scenario which started this post, and we towel off and make our way out to the dance floor for more drinks and partying.  That's when I saw the final scene of the evening which put a smile on my face. At the entrance to the playroom is a king sized bed.  You enter the room through beaded red curtains and immediately see the bed, which signals that you've some to the right place if you've got a libido and are ready to use it.  As we walked past the bed I saw it was in use by an extremely fit man giving an extremely fit woman an erotic massage.  Both were naked and tanned.  The woman had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, if you could manage to fish a quarter out of your suddenly tight pants.  The man could have been a firefighter who's clothes had vaporized somehow leaving his skin untouched and pecks bulging.  His abs looked stronger than anything they served at the bar that night. And sitting alone on a ledge running along the other side of the bed was a blonde, dumpy Tumblrina.  She was dressed in some cheap lingerie stretched across her pale fungus-like tits.  She was being ignored by everybody, especially the hot couple on the bed.  As we left, I couldn't help but stare.  She looked with longing at the oiled couple moaning in delight, her expression one of misery, as though she were seeing a vision of a dessert which she would be forever denied.