I’d just been dumped.
I hadn’t seen it coming, we’d been together a few years and lived together for a couple.
It was definitely my fault, more for the things that I didn’t do, rather than the things I’d done. I’d got comfortable and lazy and hadn’t been the boyfriend I should have been.
It didn’t stop me feeling sorry for myself. I had a couple of weeks to move out of the flat we had shared but couldn’t find anywhere to move into at such short notice and there was an extra couple of weeks gap before I could move into my new place.
So, I stuck all my belongings in a storage unit once my two weeks was up, packed up a suitcase and did what any self-respecting man in his mid-30s does when faced with this situation. I got on a train back north and went to stay with my mum.
I spent the first couple of days pretty much solidly in my old bedroom. Crying and feeling miserable in a single bed that I hadn’t slept in for years.
I felt utterly pointless. I’ve always had body issues and anxiety. I felt no one would ever want me again and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure why anyone would. I didn’t feel sexy or attractive and I certainly wasn’t acting like it.
On the fourth day though, I decided I was going to do something different. I was going to get out of my old room. I was going to go away for the weekend. I didn’t have much money but there was one place that reminded me of childhood and feeling free and was cheap to visit – Blackpool.
I booked a cheap B&B online for Friday and Saturday night and a return train ticket.
I finally had something to look forward to.
I had a couple of days to decide what I wanted to do there and I spent it glued to my phone, looking up the price of the Pleasure Beach and Blackpool Tower.
Then, on one of my searches for ‘Best things to do in Blackpool’ came an intriguing entry that claimed ‘Blackpool has a number of swingers clubs’.
Now, I’d never been to a swinger’s club before. I’d visited a few porn cinemas in London before they shut down and loved the tackiness and sleaze of them. And something clicked in my head. I may not feel sexy but if I surrounded myself with people who did, maybe I could help shift the way I thought about myself a bit.
I certainly wasn’t going with the thought of fucking, I just wanted that atmosphere. The scent of sex in the air and the knowledge that people were there to enjoy themselves.
So, I did my research and decided on one particular club. I won’t name it, but anyone who has been will probably recognise it from the description.
I emailed them to check it would be ok to go on the Friday night, after reading reviews that it was a little bit quieter than on a Saturday. Their email back was positive, they limited single males but my name was on the guestlist. They recommended I should bring a pair of flip flops, read the rules on the site and arrive at the 8pm opening time so I could be given a tour of the place.
So, on the Friday, I got an early train to Blackpool, full of nerves and anxiety. I checked into my B&B, realised I’d forgotten to bring the flip flops that were apparently so important and headed into the town centre to get some. Once bought, I popped into one of the numerous amusement arcades and wasted a few quid on the slot machines, killing time.
It was soon time to head to the club, so I showered, liberally applied some aftershave and dressed casually but smartly. I headed to the address they’d given me, down a back street and through an exterior door marked with a small sign.
Taking a deep breath I pushed open the main door and went inside. The woman behind the counter gave me a massive smile and asked for my name for the guestlist. I paid my incredibly reasonable entrance fee, was given a locker key and one of the owners came to meet me to give me the tour.
He showed me into the main venue, a large open room with a pool table and plenty of seating. A small dancefloor housed a pole. A tiny alcove had a small raised bed inside – “for those who want everyone to watch”. Another room off the ground floor had a dungeon and a dark room.
I was shown the lockers, and dumped my jacket, before looking at the hot tub and showers.
“Did you bring flip flops?” I was asked. I showed him the pair I’d bought earlier.
“You don’t need to put them on now, but later in the evening, if you want to go upstairs, we don’t allow outside shoes up there. But, for now, we can go up and have a quick look around.”
We went up and I was shown the couples only room with the big glass window for people to watch through, the cinema room showing glossy US hardcore porn, a brightly lit ‘medical’ room with a table that, quite frankly, terrified me. Then there was a couple of private rooms, a gangbang room with a big circular bed in the centre, a bi room and a small stage area for those who liked to put on a performance.
I’d got my bearings and had been made to feel incredibly comfortable by the hosts, so I settled down with a Diet Coke, watching the steady stream of people arriving. You could spot the newbies, as they were given a tour. Regulars hugged and kissed each other as they came through the door. Shots were passed round. I sat and nursed my drink, chatting to a few people. I popped out to the smoking area a few times and met some lovely people outside too. It felt like a friendly local pub, where non-regulars were welcomed. Just a local pub where the clothes started coming off and people wandered round in various states of undress.
At about 10.30, pretty much everyone was basically in their underwear. A few people had ventured upstairs. A bubbly Scottish lady and her husband I’d been chatting to earlier joined me and she gave me a cheeky nudge. “Why haven’t you got your kit off yet?”
I gave a half smile and patted my belly. “No one needs to see this.”
“Oh fuck off!” She laughed. “Look around you! You think anyone cares? You’re definitely not the biggest guy in here! You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but my advice is to throw yourself into it. Be free!” She gave me a kiss on the cheek, then took her husband by the hand and dragged him off upstairs.
“She’s right you know,” he offered over his shoulder. “No one cares!”
I took a deep breath, headed to the lockers and slowly removed my clothes, putting them neatly away until I was standing in my pants. I put on the flip flops I’d bought and ventured back into the main area. And no one batted an eyelid. No one stood and pointed and laughed.
I spent the next hour downstairs, chatting away before venturing out for another smoke, grabbing a dressing gown from a rail by the door.
I got chatting to an attractive couple in their 30s. They were first timers at the club too, and we agreed that it was a great venue with really friendly people. As we finished our cigarettes, the wife nudged her husband conspiratorially and he turned to me and said “We’re heading up to the gangbang room. Want to come?”
The nerves and anxiety kicked in immediately, so I said I’d be up in a second. I lit another cigarette to try and calm myself down, smoked it about halfway and then thought ‘What the fuck are you doing? Get up there! You’ve been invited. Someone you found attractive found you attractive enough to ask!’
I dumped the dressing gown and headed up the stairs to the gangbang room. The wife was on the bed already, her husband with his head buried between her thighs. She looked round the room at the numerous guys who had come in and pointed at each in turn: “Yes. Yes. No. No. No. Yes.” She got to me and smiled and said “yes” again. Phew.
The four guys she’d said yes to moved to the side of the bed. All of us hard, all of us ready. She reached out and took two of the other guys in her hands and started stroking their cocks. The third guy climbed onto the bed and she took his cock in her mouth, greedily sucking on it.
I stood there, unsure of what to do. Then her husband raised his head and said “your turn, she loves being licked”. He moved out of the way and I went down on her. Her cunt tasted divine. It was already hot and wet, the lips red and swollen. I used my fingers gently at first, then more firmly, sliding them inside her as I sucked and swirled my tongue on her clit.
She started to thrust her hips down onto my hand with more urgency, grinding her cunt onto my face. Wanting my fingers deeper, my tongue licking harder. My fingers were slipping in quickly, two, then three, then four inside. The wife was moaning, muffled by the thick cock in her mouth, and I could see her husband stroking himself as he watched her.
With very little warning, she turned her head, and looked directly at him. “I’m cumming,” she said hoarsely. “Fucking hell.” She shuddered to an orgasm on my fingers and I could feel her clenching around my knuckles.
After she’d regained her breath a bit, she sat up. She leaned over and gave me a long slow kiss, her tongue tasting herself on my lips. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You have fucking magic fingers.”
And then, right at that second, I felt sexy. And attractive.
Until I looked down and saw I was wearing fucking flip flops. |
