Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Many Humpy returns Lovers!
What a whirlwind of a time the past few weeks has been! No I’m retracting that, what a whirlwind the past few months have been! You have no idea how much I have been up to Lovers. Between a budding relationship that I sadly had to pull the plug on yesterday, a kinky sex request from a Tinder man I was keen to disrobe and a very G rated Christmas with the family, things have just been wild (not to mention at times confusing! Note to self, do not attempt to sext a man whilst your two and three year old nephews are in the same room. Oh and on that note Claire, always always always lock your phone!)
Anyways, awkward family moments aside, we have a lot to catch up on don’t we Lovers? Now where did we leave off? Ah that’s right, I was right in the middle of only the largest gathering of like minded sexual deviants in Australia! The Saints and Sinners Ball! Ok, so I’d just finished having sex with Jake (with varying degrees of success) and I was feeling alive and slightly pungent.
After my aforementioned trip to the toilets to sponge off the remnants of my sexual tryst, I returned to Jake and plopped down beside him on our freshly christened beanbag. However we were promptly thrown off that freshly christened bean bag, due to the amorous couple eager to mark said beanbag as their own. Following our less than graceful dismount, we headed to the bar. Jake didn’t drink so we ordered a water (the dude wouldn’t even order a bloody coke! This is why I will never date a body builder, I need my sugar!) As we waited for our freshly squeezed tap water, Jake reiterated to me just how much he had enjoyed our session. I agreed with him and complimented him on his fine penis finesse, tactfully leaving out the part where he almost smothered me in a beanbag chock full of body fluids. Jake grabbed a card from the stack on the bar advertising local swingers parties and wrote down his number before handing it to me, a hopeful look on his face.
“I really had fun with you.” he said sincerely, “and I hope we can be friends. Call me and we’ll see a movie ok?”
I stared at him non-plussed.
Normally once a guy has journeyed to the centre of the Claire things tend to move in a more… sexual direction. You know you tend to get requests like, “That was awesome, can we try the butt now?” or ” Wow what a ride, can you tie me up next time?” I must say I’ve never had a movie request, that was a definite first. I smiled at Jake and tucked the card into the top of my thigh highs.
Would I call him? Would this ‘movie’ lead to more? Did I really want to see him again? Would he try and smother me in a movie theatre seat? God knows what fluids those things have seen.
I never called him. Some things are just best left unknown, unsaid and unseen.
After I parted ways with Jake I circulated the three floors, taking in the myriad sights, sounds and of course smells wafting through the rooms. From the undulating mass of bodies writhing together in a unison known only to themselves on the bottom floor, to the satisfying smacks and thuds issuing forth from the third floor rooftop scene, there was no shortage of intriguing images.
However, this year felt different, wrong almost. After being a single lady for almost three years I have mastered the art of attending events solo, from the “I’m fine” smiles given to concerned strangers to the occasional conversation with a pool cue to pass time until an actual person shows any sign of interest.
But of course this was no ordinary event. I’d order a drink from the bar and strike up a conversation with the closest moving object, only to have them stare at me with shock, or worse, pity when I informed them I was on my own. I tried to allay their fears, assuring them that I was in no way bored, hadn’t been stood up and was definitely enjoying myself, but the looks remained.
It irritated me.
The complete freedom and lack of judgement I had experienced last time around seemed tainted this time. It was as if I needed to bring a man to enjoy myself; not a question but a statement.
I tried to shrug the feeling off and even rushed the stage when they called for volunteers to take part in the best dressed competition. Sadly I was hip and shouldered out of the way by the Kracken, but I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. I mosied on over to the grope box which was obviously inhabited by a girl as no less than ten horny salivating men were shoulder deep in the grope holes, furiously grabbing at any piece of flesh they could reach. I flinched and clutched my honey pot in sympathy, imaging the the manic finger-blasting that girl must have been experiencing.
Still, some people would do anything for that type of rogering, so I comforted myself with the thought of said lady screaming with pleasure rather than squirming away from a stray fingernail.
Absentmindedly I reached for the bowl of chips next to me, unaware I was being watched. As I crunched on my much needed sustenance, a sixty something lady leaned towards me and asked, “Do you dare?”
I looked at her blankly for a moment, not registering what she meant before realising she was warning me about the potent mix of food and the mass amount of body fluids flying about. Cross contamination was never a more real fear.
After I twigged to her meaning I laughed and replied, “Oh don’t worry, I’m so hungry I could eat anything right now.”
Bad choice of words at a sex party Claire.
The ladies eyebrows disappeared into her hairline and she quickly scurried away, mumbling something about how I just had to meet her husband.
I beat a hasty retreat down to the bottom floor and hid amongst the mass of bodies on the dance floor. Once I was sure the coast was clear I extricated myself (with some difficulty) and found a quiet wall to lean against. As I looked around I realised something startling. I was one of the youngest there, which meant most of the guys wanted me (so ageist I know, those forty year old birds knew tricks I couldn’t even dream of in my current state.) Because of this, there was no challenge. I could literally walk up to practically anyone, proposition them and find myself face down ass up in a matter of minutes.
But isn’t that what you came for Claire?!
It was, it really was, but now something had changed. I wanted the challenge, the chase, the fear of being rejected. Damn it, I think I wanted a boring old normal bar scene.
You’ve got issues Claire.
I nodded solemnly to myself, agreeing wholeheartedly with this observation. As I did, a guy coming off the dance floor noticed my nod and thought I was giving him affirmation for his sick dance moves. He smiled at me and performed a little show for me while I smiled encouragingly and bopped along. I wasn’t interested at all but I certainly wasn’t going to hurt his feelings by just walking off or something.
Unfortunately the dance show turned into him leaping onto me and sticking his tongue down my throat.
Urgh, lizard tongue.
When he came up for air he pointed downwards towards my juice box. I sighed and just nodded, anything to get that tongue away from my mouth.
So that was how I ended up leaning against a wall in a sex club, drink clutched in each hand, with an eager lizard tongue going to town on my lady garden.
God I was bored.
It was only when the photographer for the night strolled past and murmured “Dude, that does not look fun,” did I realise just how much I wanted to leave. Well first I wanted to get the photographers phone number, but then I wanted to leave.
However the photographer had melted away into the crowd like some sexy guardian angel, so I took it as a sign and filed him away in my spank bank. I tapped lizard tongue lightly on the head to get his attention.
“That was lovely, thanks!” I said as enthusiastically as I could muster. “Must dash though.”
And I ran before the lizard could ensnare me in his clutches.
I picked up my clothes from the locker room lads and put my ‘civilian clothes’ on with a smile on my face and hope in my heart, not to mention a slight tingle in the pink canoe.
So I left Saints and Sinners, freshly fucked once by a body builder and looking forward to returning to the normal dating scene, full of rejection, humiliation and sadly lacking in blowjobs on the dance floor.
Can’t win them all I guess!
Pickup line of the week: If I was an octopus, all three of my hearts would beat for you.