After Hours

It did worry me a bit when I realised that my partner in crime, so to speak, to visit the club wouldn't be able to join me for the evening - but, I tried to convince myself, this was always going to be something I would have to take responsibility, in full, for myself. I did, however, decide against opening up that small bottle of bubbly wine while getting ready. If I was going alone I was going to be as sober as one gets. 

In a way I had made it easy for myself, seeing as I had only packed one outfit for the club I wouldn’t have to fret about maybe choosing another alternative for clothing. I stepped out of the shower and turned the music up just a little bit more while I was starting to get ready. Black stay-ups. The new, red lingerie set with the quarter cup bra and the diminutive thong. I packed the heels in a bag to bring along - since I was going to walk to the club (and furthermore, back from the club to the hotel later on) alone I wanted to make sure I didn’t provoke any ideas from potential bad people. I know, I know… It sounds silly, but still. I pulled the tight dress over my head and then my jeans - tucking the dress in the best I could - a cardigan, sneakers and a leather jacket. I wasn’t going to do much about my hair and makeup, these days I wear pretty much the same makeup regardless of if it’s a day at work or an evening at a club. I just checked that the mascara hadn’t smudged, put a little bit of new highlighter on and pulled a brush through my hair. 

In the elevator down to the hotel lobby I took a couple of deep breaths. It wasn't the very first time I would visit the club - but somehow it still felt just like the first time. I shrugged mentally and thought that it might eventually wear off - or not. There was something special about these nerves, the tingling nervosity, that was appealing in a way. It made me feel very much alive. 

The road leading toward the club climbed up a hill and when I reached the address I couldn’t tell if my heart was beating so hard because of the incline - or the nerves. The plan was to meet up with some other visitors at a restaurant before heading to the club, but the hitch in this plan was the detail that I had no idea as to what the others looked like. That, obviously, made it tricky to figure out what table to approach. 

The restaurant wasn’t crowded, but there were enough people to make me very insecure… so I went up to the bar and ordered a glass of bubbly wine, sending a message in the group chat that I had arrived. I had just sent the message away when a man came up to me and started trying to chat me up - or whatever it was he intended to do. He was obviously higher than any kite and didn‘t seem to be able to focus properly. I was starting to despair when a man swung round the bar and tapped my shoulder. 

“We’re over there.” he said and motioned for a table at the back of the room. I was so grateful I could have kissed him… I joined the group at the table (and later came to understand that I could have picked one from many tables and would have found people who were also going to the club), introduced myself and moments later was involved in smalltalk. 

Within half an hour or so the clock had struck nine - and it was time to continue towards the club. It didn’t take very long before we had paid the entrance fee and were allocated a locker. It is a strange feeling to be standing at a locker, like the ones in school, and get undressed for an evening of lovely naughtiness… but that is the best way I can describe it. I pulled off my jacket and jeans, kept the tight white dress and replaced the sneakers with black heels. There is something that happens in me when I’m walking in heels. A sudden swagger, a rise to the chin… I like it. When I walk in a pair of heels I walk like I’m on the catwalk. Oh, I know, it’s silly - but I always get the feeling that I’m transforming, sort of like Clark Kent transforms into Superman in a phone booth (does he even do that in the modern films, by the way?) from a dull mouse to… well, a more glamorous mouse. 

Left the key to our lockers in the bar and ordered something more to drink. The conversation in the sofas gets a little bit surreal when you compare it to a regular life conversation - spanning from everyday life to why it’s so handy to have an extra man around when having a home orgy. 

After finishing my glass of non-alcoholic bubbly I decided that the time has come to strip down yet one layer. I ditched the dress in my locker and returned to the bar - feeling kind of raunchy and a little bit adventurous, having chosen the red set instead of a classy black. 

When I came back into the bar there was a conversation striking up about the pole that was situated in the back end of the bar. I said that I would love to learn how to do pole dancing and the bartender challenged me to do it. What I thought was a safe answer “Then you show me how!” turned out to be putting fuel on the flames instead of wiping them out. Of course the fit bastard knew how to do pole dancing and I’ll be damned if I back down from a challenge… or anyway, I will try to meet the challenge, but I’m not saying I will be successful. After a few half-assed tries I was saved by the bell by a slim, pretty girl who charged at that pole like a pro. She was pretty damn good, if you ask me. Along with her came her husband and a friend of theirs (or so I gathered) and the two men sided with me, watching her swing around that pole. The not husbandy guy politely asked if he could put his arm around me - and since I liked the way he looked (I do admit, I seem to have a thing for a man with a beard) I decided that he was very welcome to. That arm around me turned into more of a caressing hand and all of a sudden I’m sandwiched between the two of them… and with one man in front of me and one pressed against my back the pretty dark-haired girl comes up to us and I kiss her. 

Before I have had the time to wrap my head around this new situation they suggest that we move on to the play room area - and I think… well, why not? 

We actually don’t make it to a playroom, but end up on the sofa in the corridor. The good-looking bearded guy and the pretty dark-haired lady quickly get down to business and are fucking eachother quite enthusiastically. I do realise that the husband is expecting that we do pretty much the same - and I decide to be straightforward and tell him that no: he’s not gonna fuck me. I’m in it - but I’m not going to be fucking anyone. What I will do, though - and rather happily so - is to make out with him and I also have no problem with going down on him (although I think to myself that this might be getting into rather murky waters, considering the fact that I haven’t been practising any fellatio in such a very, very long time - but heck, maybe it is like riding a bike… and I did use to love it!) 

The fornicating two finish their business with impressive effectivity and when they leave to wash off the husband suggests he could lick me. I consider the idea for half a second and then say “Yes please.” 

Once on my back with my thighs spread wide I enjoy the attention - and very quickly there is an audience gathering around us. A man standing over my head asks if he can touch me and as I nod he starts caressing my breasts, swelling up from the quarter cup bra. When he unzips his laque hotpants and presents a big, hard cock over my face I instinctively lick it and then take as much as I can of him into my mouth. His cock is big and I use my hand as buffer to avoid getting it too deep, gagging isn’t my idea of a sexy time. Now he has left my breast unattended and another man steps in and starts stroking them. I can see more people stopping to watch and the idea gets me even more horny. I moan around his cock, by now the husband is replaced by second boob man to lick me. The guy with his cock in my mouth tells me he’s gonna cum very soon and asks where I want it. I suggest he aims at my breasts - and so he does, warm spurts of sperm pooling between my boobs. 

Once he finishes I suggest to the guy licking me that I’d rather need a water break - and walk off towards the bar, stopping at the bathroom to wipe off the sperm from my chest. 

Two quick glasses of water later I’m talking to a very nice man and the poor sucker happens to ask why I’m on this adventure on my own… and get the short version (and mind you, that is still a long story) of how I ended up in a swingers club. I end with saying that any moral lecture he feels inclined to let me hear they still won’t measure up to how I feel myself… but to my surprise and delight he just shrugs and says that moral is overrated and that we all have our struggles - and then suggests that we go to a room where he can lick my pussy. 

I smile and say “Yes please.”

Once in the mirrored room I watch myself through the ceiling mirrors and see him making himself comfortable between my thighs and when his tongue touches my pussy I sigh and smile. I can see my own face in the mirrors, I look like the cat who ate the canary… It doesn’t take long before we have on-lookers, couples stopping to watch and two guys at the end of the bed who are masturbating while watching - and it all factors in to make me hornier and hornier… and hornier. I arch up, pushing my pelvis high, feeling my whole body vibrating… the orgasm is sort of hovering just out of reach - but it is still so damn good. I’m probably smiling like the Cheshire cat when I once again suggest that it would be a good idea to have some water… and we return to the bar area. 

Back in the bar with a new glass of water the husband dude shows up again, claiming he is knackered - but when I somehow end up with one cock in each hand he really does seem to be having some left. Then his pretty dark lady shows up again and I smile at her, telling her husband that I am rather enchanted with his lovely woman. She smiles and leans forward to kiss me… and he suggests I have a go - so I do. I make out with this petite, lovely girl and I pull her panties aside, licking her and caressing her labia. She reaches in and her fingers rubbing my pussy brings that orgasm that was hovering just a while before suddenly hits me with a vengeance - and as far as I can tell she does cum too. 

Then a not-quite-stranger shows up - we’ve been writing to each other, but never met. It’s so strange and lovely, this thing: to introduce oneself to somebody who is basically a stranger - while being naked or very close to naked and just having orgasmed… He slides down behind the girl and starts fingering her - and this is when I have my first ever experience of a squirt orgasm, because this girl, she cums and her liquids flood the floor, soaks me and everyone around. I’m amazed - until this very moment I have always thought that those squirt orgasms… they aren’t real. 

But I’m nothing if not able to change my opinions and while getting the dehydrated girl two big glasses of water I hear the bartender and the fingering guy having a friendly argument whether the soaked floor is the fault of the girl or the guy who fingered her. I pipe in that I, for once, am going to have to admit that there is such a thing as a squirting orgasm in the first place - but that I still am considering them and the g-spot too to be a bit like unicorns. Lovely creations made up of plenty of vivid imagination and very rare sightings. 

The bartender looks at me and hitches his eyebrow high.

“Every woman can have a squirt orgasm. You too.”

I laugh it off. After all, I am rather content with my regular orgasms.

The not-quite-stranger comes up to me after I delivered the second glass of water and asks me if I’d be interested in a massage - and honestly: what person in their right mind would decline the offer of a free massage? I follow him to the massage room where I undress (not that I’m wearing that much clothing in the first place - but even a rather small amount of clothing can be disturbing in a massage situation) He asks if I would prefer to have the chain to the hallway open or closed, where the open door would signal that I’d be open to more people joining the massage session. I opt for close. After all, this is my first more active visit and I should probably not go for the full orgy version straight away ;-) I stretch out on the massage bed and he pours a liberate amount of baby oil over my back, running strong fingers over my body and booty. I do warn him, though, that if he tries any funny business with my ass - he’ll end up in a fair amount of pain. He assures me that he won’t do anything I’m not okay with and it does feel really good, I do love a massage any day of the week. After a while he tells me to turn over and I obediently do as I’m told. My front gets an equally pleasant treatment and when his pierced tongue makes contact with my labia I sigh and eagerly spread my thighs to provide easier access. The piercing in his tongue is a new experience, adding a tinge of hardness to the otherwise lovely soft and wet experience.

He tells me that he wants to fuck me now - and I realise that I haven’t told him that I won’t let him. It’s a good feeling, though, that everyone I’ve told so far has gracefully accepted and hasn’t pushed the subject and instead I go down on my knees in front of him - and even though I’ve been out of exercise for such a long time when it comes to giving head it seems to be to his satisfaction and before too long he motions for me to sit back and ejaculates over my chest and breasts. The warm droplets make their way down over my tummy and we hug - making him as sticky with his cum as I am. 

I grab my towel and the small pile of lingerie and we head for the showers. While under the warm water jets the good-looking bearded guy that I’ve kept running into during the evening steps into the shower beside me and suddenly I find myself kissing him. I glance at my watch and realise that it’s almost closing time, so I dry myself off and get back into my lingerie and heels. Back at the bar area I get his phone number and stuff the note into my bra, thinking to myself that I will have to remind myself to move the paper note into my handbag when I get to the locker. I’m just downing a glass of water when the bartender winks at me and asks me if I would like to have a go at that squirt orgasm later. I smile and ask him if he really has that much time and, foremost, patience - but he nods and tells me to wait until after hours, he will prove me wrong. 

I think to myself that he is obviously just messing with me… but curiosity and something that I can only describe as anticipation makes me linger while the club empties. I visit the bathroom and when I come back out it’s just me and the two bartenders left. 

“Shall we..?” he says, grabbing a bunch of fresh towels and then leads the way to the room with the swinging bed. One towel goes on top of the swing, two more on the floor underneath it. 

I laugh and say that it’s kind of sweet that they are so optimistic… and then they help me down onto the swing, place my feet in loops that are attached to the chains to the ceiling and tell me to lay back and just relax. Plenty of baby oil is applied between my thighs and they start stroking and caressing me. My tummy, my legs and foremost my pussy. Surprisingly quickly, considering the circumstances, I feel relaxed on the verge to in a trance and when one of the bartenders slips his fingers inside me it’s only natural. A hand on my lower belly gently presses down while he is working the inside of my pussy. This is different to… well, to pretty much everything I’ve experienced before and for a while I struggle with the feeling that I really need to pee (something I know I really don’t have to, since that was the last thing I did before ending up on my back in this room) 

I can feel my body shivering, only this is not the build-up to an orgasm as I know it… and when there is a triumphant exclamation from between my legs don’t at first understand what has happened - but the warm liquid I feel dribbling on my thighs tells another story… and after a little bit more work I actually do squirt again, the liquid glistens on the bartenders underarm. This is all I can take for the moment - I’m dazed and confused in a very pleasant way.

For the second time this night I’ve now got one hard cock in each hand and there is no confusion about it. I demand a bit of that baby oil to smoothen the touch and after a bit one of them cum onto the towel under me. The other cock needs a bit more attention and after having licked and sucked him for some time we switch to the mirrored room where we end up in a 69 - and it feels so damn good to have my pussy licked while having a hard cock in my mouth… and when I climax I go limp. He finishes himself off and we stay on the bed for a little while, watching our pleased images in the mirror above.

When I walk out the door a little while later and stroll back through the light rain towards the hotel I’m having the silliest, most content smile you can imagine plastered on my face. I’ve already started planning for a new visit.