Fat and Slutty

Okay, this is the content you came for. Fat and Slutty to the max. Here we go. It’s gonna be explicit as fuck. If you happen to own a dick, it might get hard. If you happen to own a vagina, it might get wet. If you happen to be related to me, you probably don’t want to read this one.

B and I have been discussing group sex for a Very Long Time. We’ve both experienced it before, but we’ve never experienced it together. We’ve talked to people in lifestyle-specific dating apps, social media platforms, and in person. We haven’t made it happen. And, well, we still haven’t, technically. BUT! Last night, we made our first real strides in that direction in a much more palpable way.

We went to a swingers club together. He’s been to another one, twice. I’ve been to several BDSM dungeons and clubs. But we have never been to a lifestyle venue as a couple before. Until last night.

He drove to town after work and arrived at our hotel, where I was already showering. Strangers were going to see me fuck, and maybe join in, I wanted to feel perfect. Lots of shaving happened. But not my pubes, I refuse to give them any more attention than a basic trim and a tidy around the edges. Anyway. I got ready. Hair done, make-up done. B helped me choose my outfit; a crotchless bodystocking, an entirely sheer top, a leather pencil skirt, high heels. No bra, no knickers. He wore a nice button-down shirt and jeans and a pair of polished boots. No underwear for him either. Let’s fucking do this thing.

We pre-gamed with a little bourbon, which we took with us to top up our Dutch courage as needed. The goal was not to get trashed but to have enough of a buzz to loosen up and rid ourselves of some level of inhibition. We weren’t nervous. We were excited.

We arrived at the club, located in an innocuous office building somewhere in Tulsa. Once inside, it was like walking into any other club. Music playing, disco lights, people socializing and dancing. We paid the entrance fee, and as the greeter explained the rules of the wet t-shirt contest, a dear friend of mine came up to say hello. I was so excited to see her, and I didn’t really give a fuck about the contest. B listened to the rules on my behalf and assured the greeter he would tell me later. He didn’t.

Once I had finished excitedly saying hello to my friend, we were taken on a tour of the venue. A main social area featuring DJ booth and stripper pole, several playrooms with different themes and rules (more on that later), two smoking atriums, locker room, bathrooms, and finally a kitchen/break-type room. In that last room, we ran into a person I know from my professional life who I was NOT expecting to find in a sex club. It threw me completely. I had every intention of roaming the place in nothing but my bodystocking and heels. Not now, not in front of them. I tried to forget they were there, but I kept seeing them. More bourbon.

B and I roamed around, mingled, looked. There were a lot of people. I’d estimate at least 150. Lots of people were flirting, but no one was playing yet. We talked to several people, some who had been attending these events for years, and plenty more who were there for the very first time. It was interesting to see the types of people who were there and learn a little bit about them.

We spent about an hour and a half in this manner, until eventually I didn’t want to wait anymore. I asked him what he would like to do next. He asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to take him to a room and fuck him. He said, ‘Then pick a room and lead me to it!’. Hell yeah.

We are both exhibitionists (surprising, I know), so one room was the obvious choice: The Showtime Room. There are two beds, one of which backs up to floor-to-ceiling windows facing a smoking atrium, and a few seats. A doorway (with no door) that leads to the main social area. The rules of this room are: anyone can enter the room and watch, but no one can touch or speak to the people on the beds. The people on the beds can initiate conversation with the spectators and invite them to join in if they choose. They can also interact through the windows with the people watching from the atrium – if they are on the bed that faces those. There is no socializing in this room, beyond negotiations and invitations for play. Of course, we chose the bed with the windows.

We started slow. The wet t-shirt contest was starting in the social area, and that was the soundtrack to our intimacy. We kissed, touched, undressed each other. He requested that I keep my heels and bodystocking on and asked for permission to tear holes in it to access my nipples, which I gave. He sucked and licked them until I came. A crowd was starting to form around us, which I ignored. Instead, I focused on B, his touch, his voice. The rest I tuned out.

He asked what I wanted, I told him I wanted his cock in my mouth. He obliged. He had asked me ahead of time to not ‘be a fuckmonster’ too quickly. I remembered, and regulated my pace accordingly. I didn’t look anywhere but up at him while I gave his dick some love. When he was sufficiently worked up, he asked if I was ready for him to fuck me. YES I WAS.

For the next 45 minutes (we think) we alternated between fucking in various positions, him eating my ass, and me sucking his dick. He checked in with me often, told me he loved me, called me a Goddess. I had orgasm after orgasm. I kept my focus on him for the duration, with my eyes closed the majority of the time. I didn’t want to look around the room and see the face of my professional acquaintance. At one point, when he was fucking me from behind, I opened my eyes for long enough to register that there were people standing around within a foot of my face. Holy shit, what a fucking buzz. The room was packed with people. I hadn’t heard any of them speak – if they had, I wasn’t listening. I wouldn’t have heard them over the sounds I was making, in any case.

Eventually, he asked me if I wanted to cum one more time. STILL YES. To put it bluntly, he railed me. I came hard. We slowed down, our way of signaling to the crowd that we were finishing. He held me, kissed me, told me how much he loved me. Connection. He cleaned my face of the make-up that had run beneath my eyes. Helped me dress. Gave me something to drink. Took care of me. He was perfect.

We walked together to a smoking spot to get some air. Talked to some more people. Got a few positive reviews of our ‘performance’. We ran into a very nice couple that I’d spoken to briefly online and had a good chat with them. I’m hoping we will get to play with them sometime in the future. They had watched us and liked what they saw.

We went back to our hotel, undressed, and began to get ready for bed. I bent over the sink to wash my face and asked him to hand me a towel. He brought the towel and then got behind me and fucked me again. We went to the bed, where he fucked me again. Then, we ate pancakes we’d ordered, that conveniently arrived right after we finished. He said some beautiful things to me, and gave me some wonderful reassurance that addressed an insecurity I hadn’t even voiced yet.

We collapsed into deep sleep, entirely satisfied in all of the ways.

When we woke up today, he told me good morning and immediately gave me another orgasm before finding his way inside me again. I love how he feels. How he fucks.

We showered, went out for an enormous breakfast, and then said our ‘until next time’s.

I’m ready for our next adventure.