Archive for sex club
Great Posts from eLust (Including One of Mine!)
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Welcome to e[lust] - Your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether youíre looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, youíre going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #13? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the siteís sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ This Weekís Top Three Posts ~
Flesh – Her mind awash with the thought of fucking. The smell of his scent stirring her cunt, her skin alive and encased by lust.
Putting energy in – Play is energising, at its best; so when both of you are tired, sex or spanking can be a way to get away from it all, rejuvenate your emotional connection and stimulate body and brain with a flood of hormones and endorphines.
A Rude Awakening – In the depths of the night, I half wake to the feel of her cool skin wrapping itself around my back. Soft breasts pushing against my ribs and her groin moulding itself to my buttocks.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Shouldn’t – It always starts off so inconspicuously. Innocent, like the sort of teasing that might occur now and then between any other pair of friends who share a hint of attraction to each other.
~ Featured Post (Lillyís Pick) ~
Comfort – Sheís so strong and yet, when we lie down together, she makes herself small and vulnerable for me. îHold meî she says in a tiny voice
See also: Pleasurists #73 and #74 for all your sex toy review needs.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the ìread moreÖî tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!
Erotic Writing
Back Story
bodystocking blowjob
Bella Durmiente
Began my day
Bubbleland
Current events
Fiction: Growth
First Meetings…
Game On
“I want your cock in my mouth”
“Make Me”
Mauled at Noon
Monday Morning Flash – “Bathtime”
musing/not asking
Negotiations
Oh, What a Night
One Last Surprise
Over-Ruled?
Park ‘N Ride Me
Slut with Wine Bottle
Stardust
Satin Met a Laddie
Unravelled
Wednesday meeting with V
Kink & Fetish
BDSM Advice Series: Gags
Domme for a day
FetInRealLife #12 ñ DIY Flogger
First Memories
Impact
Last Night
New friends and intense, sweaty, loud orgasms
Out with the Old, in with the New
Sluts, Squirts and Swing Clubs
Steel
Submissive Skills: Hunt Slut
Trust
taking her as My girl, discovering the Dom within
“Welcome to SpankingCast, our spanking podcast”
Sex News, Interviews, Politics and Humor
Building Community for Sex-Positive Sexuality Professionals
Soaking — Marinating in the Cunt of Christ
Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships
Gay Pride
Going Bareback
I Can’t
Ladies, what do your genitals say about you?
My Identity is Erased
More Bad Advice
My Rape Story
Read and you may learn…V-massage
Psychology of Rape Fantasy- An Overview
Support Survivors
Top 10 Good Things About A LDR
You Shur Got a Pretty Mouth
About Last Night
Posted by: | CommentsWe’ve met before. Back in early September. On a Saturday night. At a swing club. I was with Maestro. B3 was with a woman friend.
He says he saw me the moment I arrived. Actually, what he noticed were my legs. I was wearing a hot pink silk dress with a low cut V neckline. Extremely form fitting.
Maestro and I were seated on a sofa in the main room where the music was playing when B3 approached us. He asked if we’d like to join him and his friend at a high top table near the entrance to the couples-only room. Maestro immediately said “yes,” before even seeing his lady friend.
Maestro sat on my left, B3 on my right. He asked if it was OK to flirt with me. Before I could get my answer out, Maestro said, “Yes.” While I was getting over the shock of him not asking me, I felt a hand caressing my upper right thigh. At that moment, B3’s friend arrived at the table. I knew right away that she wasn’t Maestro’s type. She was at least three inches taller and weighed at least 25 pounds more than him. She sat on a chair to B3’s right.
In my right ear, I heard B3 say, “She’s new to swinging.”
Maestro replied, “So are we. No big deal.”
B3 responded, “So let’s go into the couples room.
To which Maestro replied, “Great.”
The next thing I knew I was being led in by B3. And my man, who I hadn’t seen in two weeks, was literally running to a love seat with this other woman. Before I even got seated on a sofa, they were making out. So, I turned to B3 and said,
“What just happened here?”
“You’ve been swapped.”
Swapped? SWAPPED? I didn’t give permission for this to happen. I thought the women controlled what took place with her partner.
“So . . . what are you expecting me to do, I asked him.
“Whatever you want. But, I’d really like a blow job, if you wouldn’t mind.”
By this time, Maestro and the other woman were on the bed. He was totally nude. She was still clothed in a black and white dress. Nothing too revealing. Maestro was eating her pussy with great zeal while she reciprocated by stroking his cock. Everyone was watching them. There had to be at least 30 voyeurs inside and outside the room.
I felt trapped. Not knowing what to do— this was only my third time at a sex club—I did as instructed. I knelt down on the floor, undid the zipper on his pants, pulled out his cock, put it in my mouth and started sucking and licking it, all the while trying to keep an eye on Maestro.
“Do you like?”
“Ohhhh, I love it.”
“How fast would you like to cum?”
“If I cum right away, then I’ll have time to recover. And being over 50, I’d like to cum at least once more tonight. So bring it on, baby.”
I obliged. After which I quickly repositioned myself back on the sofa so I could watch the action on the bed. All of a sudden, I saw Maestro position himself on top of this woman. And enter her bareback.
“Oh my God, he doesn’t have a condom on. And he’s a doctor.” I blurted out to B3. “What do I do?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“So, I can stop him?”
“Sure.”
“How do I do that?”
By this time, the adrenaline rushing through my veins had taken over. I didn’t wait for a response. The crowd had gotten bigger. This had become a show. I got up, walked over to the bed, and very quietly whispered in Maestro’s ear:
“Get off of her. You don’t have a condom on.”
Then I knelt down next to the woman’s head and whispered in her ear, “Don’t you ever pull that shit on me again. You know better. He needs a condom.”
“What, what? He asked if I was clean and I said ‘yes.’”
“I don’t care what he asked you—or how you responded. Don’t you dare do this to my man again. If you don’t know the rules, you need to ask B3 to tell them to you.”
By this time, Maestro was fully clothed. I escorted him out of the couples room, through the main area where the music was playing, into a small and dingy private room. Once inside, I locked the door. In a soft, very controlled voice, I said:
“What the hell did you just do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what came over me.”
“You of all people. You’re a doctor. You should know better.”
“I know. I know. I’m sooooo sorry.”
“Well, sorry doesn’t make up for any disease you may just have been exposed to. And what am I supposed to do? We haven’t had sex in two weeks. Do you really think I’m going to play with you now?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I think you need to do a lot of thinking. You don’t even know if she’s on birth control.”
We left soon afterwards. The drive back to my place was eerily silent. Not like any 40-minute drive we’d ever had before. Maestro slept a few hours before sneeking off before dawn the next morning. It was to be the last time we ever slept in the same bed. Only I didn’t know that at the time.
Whew. Back to last night with B3. We met at Applebee’s at 6 o’clock for cocktails. Only there wasn’t a seat to be had at the bar or at a table. B3 greeted me with that fact. No smile. Just a gruff:
“It’s too busy here.”
“Yes, it certainly looks that way. What would you like to do?”
“Let’s go talk outside.”
“OK. Uhmmm . . . I don’t know of any other place with a bar around here that won’t be packed. It’s spring break and the dinner hour. How about Starbucks? It’s two miles away.”
“Fine. Just fine.”
Huh. He didn’t sound fine. When we got to Starbucks, he didn’t order a thing. Not even a bottle of water. All I heard was, “I hate this place.”
But I wasn’t about to leave. I walked outdoors and took a table in a corner. And proceeded to tell him my version of that fateful night many months ago, as a backdrop to the conversation we were about to have. I also told him about my swing partners. I learned he’d just broken up with his partner—for the second time. And old girlfriend. Not the woman I’d met.
Within minutes I knew he’d lost interest. That was just fine with me. I wasn’t the same person he’d met—and he looked nothing like the guy I remembered sucking off that night. He’d gained at least 20 pounds. And he still hadn’t smiled. From the moment he saw me at Applebee’s, he looked angry—and his tone of voice sounded even angrier.
We parted ways in less than an hour. How interesting. I’d come full circle. A little older— and a hell of a lot smarter about swinging.
Adding to the Conversation: First Visit to a Swing Club
Posted by: | CommentsOnly, a couple things about the article struck me. The one that jumped out at me right away is this sentence: “The first visit to a swingers club can be very intimidating.” I responded to it with the following comment.
Rebecca,
Based on my experiences, I agree with the comparison that you make between a vanilla club and swingers club. However, there are ways to make the experience less intimidating. First, whether you’re married or partnering with someone as a single (which I do), it’s important to discuss expectations in advance. Things like: What do you want out of the evening? What will we do if a couple or a single man approaches us? Do we want to play in a private room or try out the couples area or an orgy room? Second, there are “rules” for swinging – some spoken, some unspoken. Clubs tend to put their rules on their websites so you can review them in advance. Third, you do NOT have to play. It’s OK just to watch and observe. In fact, many couples do just this. There is never pressure of any sort to engage in sexual behavior.
You can read about my first time at a sex club at http://www.goodgirlsdontonline.com/2010/03/14/the-step-after-next/
Thanks for letting me comment –
Randi
This morning, I went back and re-read the piece. And I must say, I’m also feeling the need to respond to a few other points.
First, swing clubs aren’t just for “married” folks. In fact, depending on the evening (the clubs I go to are busiest on Saturday nights, followed by Friday evenings), you’ll also find a number of single people—like me!—in attendance. Some come as couples; others come in groups. They may show up after the local bars close just to dance in a more intimate setting. And, they may or may not play.
Second, don’t be surprised if you see men openly masturbating. Or a woman giving a guy a blow job, or a man fingering a woman in a way where all can view her physical reaction, in a more public area like the chairs and sofas near the dance floor. I remember Maestro being shocked by these behaviors on our first visit—and a bit uncomfortable with them. Me? I found them to be very stimulating and erotic.
Third, swingers may talk but for the most part, they are very private and discrete people. Other than when I’m speaking to close friends in the lifestyle, I’ve not heard someone refer to another man, woman or couple by name when discussing their experiences with them. I agree that you need to check out club venues and private parties (a whole separate topic) for yourself. We all have different perspectives and needs. Some will fit better for you than others. However, what you get out of an evening is really more about what you choose to make of it. I know I’ve been to some clubs (and parties) that others have labeled as boring, when in fact I’ve had to be dragged out of the place because I was having too much fun!
Care to comment?
The Step After Next
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All week long I’d searched my heart for what to do next. That’s after I racked my brain for hours to find a way to tell Pilot I wasn’t sure I was the girl to show him the ropes.
I gazed at the profile that Maestro and I had set up as a couple on a swing website. We’d never gotten around to adding any pictures. Every time I’d brought out the camera to take a photo of the two of us together, he always had an excuse.
“Let’s do it in the morning.”
“I’m really horny right now.”
“I look soooo tired.”
The site itself didn’t enthrall me. Not a lot of locals on it. I knew he’d talked about a few others. A woman he said he’d met online had mentioned two in particular. What were they again?
A Google search revealed what my mind couldn’t recall: Swing Lifestyle. Yep. That sounded familiar.
There was no way to search the site without putting in a profile. I hesitated. What would I say? I had no partner. I’d heard that single women like me were highly prized and desired. Unicorns they called us. But this didn’t interest me. Especially the driving home all by myself part of the equation after a party. What I loved best about swinging as a couple was what happened afterwards.
I remember the first time Maestro and I went to a sex club.
I’d met him at his apartment. In the parking garage under the building. Given the description of the dress I’d bought for next to nothing at Neiman Marcus Last Call, he’d joked that we’d never leave his apartment if I were to meet him upstairs. I still recall the hungry look on his face when he opened my car door and I stepped out—sans any sort of lingerie.
The place was in a warehouse district. Far off the beaten path. There were several bulky men sitting outside the entrance—they directed us where to park. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. While the music was blaring, no one was dancing. The few patrons that were there—a couple who was chatting on a couch, the single men at the beverage counter (no booze), and those at the high top tables—all gazed at us when we walked in the room.
We went upstairs to have a look around. A portly woman dressed in a black lace teddy stood up when we got to the top of the stairs. She showed us the rooms: The couples room had several small sofas, a large bed and a swing and chair like I’d never seen before. The other rooms all had room just for a queen sized or double bed and a nightstand. All the rooms she explained had condoms and towels in them.
We went back downstairs and got a bottle of water. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Finally thirty. That’s when a few couples walked up the stairs. I knew that would trigger Maestro. He whispered in my ear, “Let’s go follow them. I want to watch.”
We quickly realized they’d all taken private rooms. But Maestro had something else in mind. “Let’s get this party started.” Before I knew it, we were in the couples room. Alone. He led me by the hand to the swing, sat me on it, slowly lifted my skirt and went down on me. All I could hear was the whirring of the fan and the pitter patter of feet outside the huge frosted picture windows—with numerous peep holes—that lined a side of the room. Within five minutes, four couples had joined us. They seated themselves on the sofas that lined two walls across from where we were.
Maestro moved me from the swing to the bed and slowly removed my dress to reveal my naked body. My shoes never left my feet. Even when others joined us on the bed. We didn’t swap partners that night—nor did Maestro allow anyone to touch me. That was fine with me. I loved being watched and gazed at longingly by others. Who would have known that I loved being an exhibitionist? The woman who once wore flannel pajamas and socks to bed whenever the temperature plunged below freezing?
But it was the ride back to Maestro’s apartment at 2:30 in the morning and the sex that followed that I’ll never forget. Nonstop chatter. About what we did. And what we saw. Over and over we replayed the entire evening. The intensity of the conversation made for some of the steamiest sex we’d ever had together.
That’s what I longed for once again. Only, this time, I desired no drama. And so I began to write.
“I seek single (not married, not engaged, not separated) men, preferably younger than me, who are interested in being my partner at clubs, parties and the like for . . . ”
The Next Step
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Before our break-up, Maestro had suggested I scan Craig’s List for couples who might be interested in playing with us—and for other men who could occupy my time on the weekends he spent with his kids. Pilot’s ad was short and sweet: “Seeking a woman to take me to a sex club. Have never been to one before.”
We’d had a pleasant exchange of e-mails. And he’d sent me a few nude photos—which had caught me off guard. It made me wonder if I was really ready for what might happen.
As I walked toward the entrance to the Mexican restaurant he’d selected, I saw him approaching me from my left—he’d been waiting in his car for me to arrive. Over six feet in height, he bent down to give me a warm hug. “So nice to meet you.” I smiled.
I didn’t get a chance to look at the menu. Seems he’d been coming to this place a lot and had a favorite entrée that he suggested we share. While I was hungry enough to eat one all by myself, I obliged.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about how you chose to become a pilot.”
He chatted non-stop every time I asked him a question. But, when I went silent, so did he. You know, those awkward pregnant pauses that make you wonder if the other person is really interested in getting to know you. So, every once in a while, I’d insert some information about myself and then he’d ask me about it. But still, the conversation seemed lopsided to me.
I hadn’t expected to work so hard to make small talk. While I’m practiced at it, I was still exhausted from my break-up with Maestro the night before.
We both departed 90 minutes later for home—after a hug and a brief kiss. I was relieved. What an excruciatingly long evening. I’d gotten used to the effort-free conversations that Maestro and I had had for hours and hours on end. Now I knew why I’d given up dating so many years ago.
The next morning when I woke up, I found an e-mail from Pilot.
Hello Randi,
I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed meeting you last night. That was one of the most interesting and enjoyable conversations I think I’ve ever had. Also there is no surprise to me why you would have a “fan club” at the clubs, you are a very attractive woman. I loved your laugh.
Hope we can get together again soon. I’m off Sat-Weds and would be up for about anything, movie, dinner or just another talk.
Hugs n nibbles
Pilot
Crap. Now what do I do? I had no idea what to say.
So, I took a nap. One of the things I love about sleep is that if lends a new perspective on life. Only, when I woke up, I didn’t feel any better about my “date” with Pilot. That’s when it dawned on me that I’d have to do something I’d never been in a position to do before—graciously say “no thank you” to a guy who was truly interested in me.
So tell me: Is learning this skill a part of the good girl—or the bad girl—talent set?
Welcome to Randi Buckmen's adventures in intimacy—beyond the world of sex. Hear how I’m embracing the possibilities of what can be while remaining a “good girl” in the public’s eye. How did I go from being celibate for three years—and wearing flannel pj's to bed with socks when I was married—to where I am today?
