If your colleagues or acquaintances from church start Googling around about your vacation, they're not going to learn too much. Why all this coded language? According to Daniel, one of two Americans who work at Desire Pearl selling vacation packages, the obfuscation allows for a level of discretion, even deniability.
There's talk, on the resort's website, of the “erotic,” “sensual,” “open-minded atmosphere” but almost no explicit mention of swinging. But even when the trailhead signs warn about bears and rattlesnakes, you're still a little surprised when you see them.Īlthough it may be a key attraction for some, the prospect of sex with strangers isn't explicitly advertised by Desire Pearl. Swinging, I had deduced before arriving, was a fact of life at Desire Pearl-and the possibility of a little public sex (perhaps with someone new) must have been a draw for some couples.
Sure, I'd prepared myself to see some amorous behavior, but I'd imagined it'd be fleeting and discreet.
I have to admit, no matter how much sex you've seen in movies or on bookmarked sites on your laptop, it feels crazy to watch real people go at it, just yards away. There, a tall, young, freckled woman was giving her boyfriend a sensual blow job, her ass waving in the air behind her. Half the folks in the water turned their attention toward one of the six cabanas that ring the oversize tub. In that moment, a murmur swept across the Jacuzzi. Then, just as quickly, Karl and Karen pulled away. Laura laughed nervously, not repelled, just unsure what to make of all this Rob looked on in quiet, bemused amazement. Karen planted soft kisses on Laura's ears and the back of her neck while Karl kissed her shoulders, then continued toward her clavicle. Instantly, Karen and Karl sandwiched Laura between them. With genial frankness, she asked Laura, “Mind if I kiss your neck?” “We have a way of greeting people,” Karen explained. A big woman with a kind face and sweet disposition hustled over, her large breasts decorated with gold nipple rings that matched the ones in Karl's ears. Welcome!” He pointed out a woman across the tub. “Aww, don't mind me,” said Karl, landing a paw on Rob's shoulder. He had the vibe of the world's most amiable polar bear. Just then, a large round man in his mid-50s with a jovial smile and graying hair splashed over and introduced himself as Karl from Colorado. Rob turned to his wife, took a gander at the profusion of flesh and laughed: “Whoa. It was their second day here, and they seemed perhaps even more weirded out by the scene than I was. Sipping cocktails from plastic cups, Rob and Laura told me it was their first visit to a so-called lifestyle resort. She was topless but wore a pair of bikini bottoms as she scanned the scrum of naked bodies soaking before us, 43 by my count, including mine. (I've changed the names and identifying details of the hotel guests.) He was chilling-half submerged and totally nude-on the Jacuzzi's steps.Īt his side stood his pretty wife, Laura. Within a few minutes, I found myself deep in conversation with a handsome airline pilot and father of three from rural Wisconsin, a man I'll call Rob. The receptionist was right: it was easy to make friends. Now imagine those same people naked as hell, day-drinking in a jumbo-size hot tub-that's what Jacuzzi Happy Hour at Desire Pearl looked like. Picture a gaggle of parents convened outside an elementary school.
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