So, this one time, I went to a sex club...Part 2
So, this one time, I went to a sex club...Part 2
The night continues.
If you haven’t read Part 1, check it out first. I thought the full story would only be two parts, but it turns out that I may need three! So, here’s Part 2 of the experience.
[Content notes: description of consensual sex and erotic electrostimulation]
Immediately past the imposing doors is a room with benches and lockers lining the walls. The floor is carpeted and soft, and the space smells really fresh as I feel gentle air movement on my face. We’re given locker keys and instructed to put our belongings in the corresponding locker. At this club, there’s a maximum amount of clothing allowed: men can only wear underwear while women can choose to wear bras, underwear, tops, and/or lingerie.
But most people were leaving the locker staging area fully nude.
Sitting side-by-side on the bench, Asher and I slowly disrobe while the rest of our group quickly remove all their clothing and turn to face us, smiling. Asher keeps his boxer-briefs on, and after agonizing for a few seconds, I keep my plain black bra and underwear on. I felt I’d been brave enough by removing my shirt.
Claire asks if we’re all ready, and we nod and begin moving into the play areas. We pass a large, tiled shower area stocked with body washes, and as we keep walking, the lights dim, the music gets louder, and there are bodies in motion everywhere.
Claire suggests we take a lap through the whole place so Asher and I can experience the variety of available options. The first area is a large, half-walled space with about six, king-sized mattresses on the ground, each one covered in deep red vinyl. Three of the mattresses have couples on them, and I slow down because I want to watch, but I’m confused about the etiquette. Mo nudges my shoulder saying that it’s ok to look. People are having sex in public because they want to be looked at. Permission given, I stop and look at each tableau like I’m at a museum gazing at great works of art. Because how could so many different bodies focused on pleasure not be art?
And there are so many different bodies! I am, for once, not the only fat person in the room. Most naked bodies I’ve seen conform to our culture’s beauty standards, but here I see the great variety that truly exists. Breasts and penises of all different sizes and shapes, all hanging in different ways. Bellies and bums, both big and little. Body hair, both plentiful and absent.
I’m delighted to blend in with the crowd.
As we cross away from the mattress area, there are several rooms with doors that can be closed for privacy, left open with a velvet rope across the opening to invite viewing, or left open with no barrier to invite joining. We quickly glance through the open doors, see several people having sex and then keep moving.
Throughout the rooms are shelves with clean sheets for covering the play spaces and several big bowls of condoms for covering other things.
Around the corner is a larger open area with various pieces of furniture that allow for different positions, and several couples have groups gathered around them. We wander over and join one of the groups watching a tall, muscular man with a petite, dark-haired woman. They are magnificent. I assume they know each other because of the ways they demonstrate knowing each other’s bodies and pleasure points. They’re clearly enjoying being watched. Both are focused on each other but then look up at us, making eye contact and grinning, enjoying our enjoyment.
I’ve never seen live sex before, and the experience feels like the difference between watching a music video versus seeing the band live in concert. All of my senses are activated. I hear the couple’s moans and cries, the percussion beat of their bodies moving, and the quickening breathing of the crowd watching.
I can smell the bodies around me, but it’s not unpleasant. There’s a mix of perfumed fragrance, fresh sweat, and cool air. I had assumed that a sex club would smell terrible, but it doesn’t. I think the combination of fresh sheets, frequent showering, and the fresh air being circulated takes care of anything that may dampen the sensual ambiance.
It is really sexy watching this couple joyfully fuck. I’m absolutely turned on. And also totally intimidated at the thought of being watched doing anything myself.
We move further into the club and into another large room with couches along all the walls, a hanging sex swing, and a St. Andrews Cross which looks like a human-sized X with straps attached to it for tying people up. Someone tells us that a show is going to start soon, so we grab spots on the black, leather couch.
While we wait, I’m captivated by all the creative ways another couple uses the sex swing and think how fun that would be, especially when my skiing injured knee acts up and my mobility is impacted. And in that moment, I realize that seeing nude bodies having sex just became no big deal. The novelty of the experience is still there, but my brain isn’t roiling at what it’s seeing anymore. I look down the couch at my group, and each person looks relaxed and is happily chatting.
With little fanfare, the lights above the St. Andrew’s Cross gently brighten, and a man wearing leather pants with no shirt begins strapping a naked woman to the cross. She smiles widely at the crowd as he pulls her binding tight, lovingly opens a briefcase, and pulls out a metal wand. Mo whispers to me that the show is an erotic electrostimulation (e-stim) demonstration and shares that Claire has worked with the man before, and that he’s very good at knowing what each person can tolerate while also gently pushing their edges.
This is totally new to me, and I’m completely spellbound as this charismatic showman focuses intently on the woman, so fine-tuned to her pleasure sensations that he looks like an orchestra conductor as he increases the tempo and evokes the crescendo.
We all exhale when she does.
Then, grinning, he turns to the group and asks if anyone would like to volunteer. Claire jumps up and eagerly rushes forward. We watch her writhe as he passes the wand over her body, lingering lovingly on certain spots and purposefully ignoring others. We watch entranced, and I wonder what it’s like for Mo and Asher to watch their wife and girlfriend experience such huge pleasure at the hands of another man.
I feel a yearning when the show is over, noticing that I’d held my breath for most of it.
I wish I’d volunteered.
Part 3 coming in the next few weeks…you’ll hear about what I did participate in.
Did you check out this episode of the Fat & Fucked podcast that I was interviewed on? We talk about sex clubs, my boudoir photo shoot, and what our roles would be in the zombie apocalypse.
And…the Fat Joy podcast moved up to being a top 2% globally-ranked podcast!!! We’ve been at 2.5% for a while, and I’m aiming for top 1%. So if you don’t subscribe, please go do that right now!!
As a thanks for reading, here’s another gorgeous photo from my boudoir shoot with Mel Tufts to align with the sex club theme.
