sweat (the black lesbian swing series) (THE BLACK LESBIAN SWINGER SERIES)

Product Information

I would move out of an apartment that I adored, that I’d almost single-handedly furnished, that I thought I’d live in for years to come. I would hug my landlady, crying again because she was crying for me. Warning: As you’d expect, this week’s diary features some explicit details about sex, so it’s definitely NSFW. Monday After a morning of topless photos on the beach, we invited a friend to our room for a threesome. She had suggestively asked to help celebrate my husband’s birthday, and he was more than happy to unwrap this gift. Other stringent restrictions of no men, no pictures, no telling and no pressure mean the club generally gets new members “by word of mouth”.

The first time I thought that Olivia might actually stand a chance at survival was Sunday, the first full day of the cruise, when I attended the welcome mixer for “Generation O,” which is how Olivia refers to its precious few millennial and Generation X clientele. As I walked around the ship, which holds over 2,000 passengers, it was already clear that the average woman here was a couple decades older than me. But it turned out that there were a few other twenty- and thirtysomethings who’d managed to find their way to Olivia. In fact, plenty of our fellow cruisers don’t even identify as swingers or non-monogamous. They just appreciate the opportunity to take a luxury vacation with non-judgmental, sex-positive people who hold space for them. These choices are homophobic,” I tell my new friend Dana. She’s technically my press handler, tasked with making sure I see the best that the tour operator, Olivia Travel, has to offer. So far, she’s more than delivered, but the weak karaoke selection — not Dana’s fault! — is a rare low point on a trip that, four days in, has already slowly but surely begun to change my life.LeJeune says the company accepts “the high majority” of applicants, while remaining “focused on building a femme membership of career driven women.” But she wouldn’t give more details about why some women weren’t allowed in. It overwhelmed me, just then, the sudden force of my wanting. I wanted my own big, strong butch. Someone who wasn’t looking for someone to help them grow, because they’ve done most of their growing already.

I settle for some Kelly Clarkson, and after my screechy but enthusiastic rendition of “Since U Been Gone,” five (!) different women approach me, complimenting my performance. One of them tells me her friend thinks I’m really cute, and could she buy me a drink? I would move into a house with some friends in Brooklyn, where a room had just magically opened up. There’d be a dog, and a yard. It would feel like a sign. (I’d start getting really into signs.)

Soon, a pinup-style, bejeweled burlesque dancer with wavy pink hair and opulent breasts begins to shake and strip to the music. Burlesque shows are a rarity at most sex parties in the Bay Area, but a staple at Skirt Club events. Homegrown “play parties” are fairly low-key here, and with more diversity of women. Instead of the mostly skinny, femme, cis-gender women at Skirt Club, local parties tend to have women of all sizes from all parts of the gender, race and sexuality spectrum. It’s easy to see why Skirt Club, with its palatial seating, soft lighting and femmy vibe, could be an easier sell to women who don’t want to go too far outside of the hetero-norms they’re used to. She’s a true Pisces — romantic and dreamy and always processing. (My Capricorn groundedness makes us a good match, allegedly.) She’s known she was gay since she was 5 years old. Her mom still prays that, someday, she’ll find herself a good man.