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For the past, say, decade of my life, the idea of sex clubs has tantalized my brain. Whether it was watching parts of Eyes Wide Shut when my mom thought I was asleep, or devouring every piece of Fifty Shades like the basic betch I am, something about kinky sex has always fascinated me.
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And the most interesting kink of all was the sex club. Why did I go, then? Well, not that kind of sushi, anyway sorry, mom. What do I do with my purse?
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Will people be naked off the bat? Do we start making out on the dancefloor then go to a room or what? I have absolutely no idea how any of it works, and as someone who studies a restaurant menu for DAYS before actually going to said restaurant, the vast amount of unknowns is the scariest part of all.
There are two ways to approach this situation: embarrassed awkward or excited awkward. The Uber ride? Walking into the club and ing waivers and getting a tour of the nearly-empty facility? Very weird. Being set free post-tour to go to the bar and start flirting with strangers?
Very, VERY weird. Ask questions. Laugh at the strangeness. A post shared by U Up? Podcast uuppod on Nov 25, at pm PST. When I picture my ideal sex club, it involves a lot of people who are between the ages of, say, and of the same general attractiveness as I am. Second of all, hot, young people are probably too busy being hot and young to spend an ungodly amount of money to watch strangers have sex on a Saturday live.
We could walk in and it be all things nose hairs and liver spots, or it could be firm asses and strong abs. My thoughts? Me a solid depending on the day and my husband a 10 where it counts will either be the stars of the freaking show or the stubby outcasts. As a couple of twentysomethings in a state where the average age of residents is 42, we could have walked in wearing bags over our he and still been one of the hottest couples in the room.
Like in almost any other situation, the sex club offered a wide variety of sex of club attractiveness.
The only difference? As opposed to a normal bar or public event, everyone actually tried their best to look good. With a firm dress code, the population obviously put effort into their appearances. Now, obviously, as any closeted type-A could tell you, I know the prices of the club. I know how much it costs on any day for single females, couples, and single males sucks to be you in this situation, gents. What does this look like, amateur hour? I knew the price of cover. I knew the price of the drinks.
Hell, I even knew the price of how much the minute Uber would cost to and from the venue. That still did not prepare me for looking at my credit card statement the next morning. My estimated cost for the evening? The actual amount I spent over the course of the evening?
Between surge pricing, after-drinking munchies, and the fact that I become a shot-buying whore the second liquor hits my lips, the damage was as painful as my post-sex club hangover. My vision for these areas? A lot of pleather and plastic that will instantly make me wish I brought my own Lysol wipes.
Will there be a dungeon with cheap chains and posters of bars on the wall? Will there be beds with mirrors above them? You betcha. Not in the slightest. This particular place had two separate areas, the bar and the play areas. Room after room of plush, king-sized beds greeted us, each with a different theme a space room, a safari room, a fully red rooma mirror on the ceiling, and a window where other people could watch you get it on.
Beyond the private rooms were the group rooms complete with, you guessed it, black, pleather couches.
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Black pleather couches. Beyond that? Again, you guessed it: a dungeon with multiple cages, sex swings, chains, and a wall full of things like whips, gags, blindfolds, belts, and clamps. The one way it differed from what I expected was how clean it was.
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Everywhere you looked, hand sanitizer dispensers were mounted on walls, fresh towels were being laid out by polite-yet-detached workers, and the linens on the beds were being changed and the couches were being thoroughly wiped down. On the other hand, seeing someone in latex gloves scrub down a chaise lounge after four couples orgasmed all over it was slightly unappealing.
Overall, was it hot? Sort of, and also sort of not.
As soon as we walk in, a spotlight is going to land on me and the entire bar will let out a soft, slightly sexual gasp. Couples will stampede over to me, tripping on their stripper heels and slipping across the lubed up floor to be the first to talk to me. Did people hit on me? Not even a little bit. Turns out, the world did not stop turning the moment I crossed the threshold sex the latex-scented caves. The thing is, the people at sex clubs are live to other people coming into sex clubs, especially the newbies. While club couples and single females came up to us, no one was especially pushy or weird.
In fact, it was just like any other situation: Light small talk and downing drinks. The craziest part? While it felt a little uncomfortable turning people down at first, in this environment it feels totally safe to ask for sex and to live say no. So, the thought of walking around a venue where my husband would not only be looking at other women, but potentially be solicited by said women, seems like a special circle of hell specifically reserved for me. And bonus points? I get to pay for it!!!!
I had a feeling this would be the same, except elevated. Sure, there was sex some, like when the brunette wearing nothing but pasties was talking to my husband about finance for 10 minutes, but in reality, it just made things more exciting. With trust and communication, you got the thrill club the actual risk of cheating. That said, even with all of the unsexy and very rigorous boundaries in place, the whole point of this other than internet fame and bringing shame to my parents is to get laid.
I was dressed like a slutty elf.
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We started drinking at 5pm. Yes, I had sex. Yes, stuff happened with strangers. Yes, it made our relationship stronger. Not yet, at least…. Yeah, yeah—pun fully intended. She's an avid lover of holding grudges, sitting down, and buffalo chicken dip. Even though she's married, she doesn't suck. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter so she gets more followers than that influencer her husband dated in high school. Reality: Awkward Is As Awkward Does There are two ways to approach this situation: embarrassed awkward or excited awkward. View this post on Instagram.