Turns out I'm dating a Pro...
Out of context: Reply #66
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- catpower0
Cut back to my current "relationship." I know I don't want a real relationship with her because of ho tendencies, but the golden ticket potential is through the roof.
When my girl showed up, we did standard romantic stuff that you would expect on a romp through Europe — walked the streets, ate incredible food, and had great sex every night. Lovely. And no period ambushes this time. Even more lovely. But I had more in mind.
Golden ticket.
I've never been to a sex club, but there are a few invite-only private groups that I've thought about for years. It was something that I had always wanted to bring up with my ex-wife, but I knew that it wouldn't be well-received. Fair enough. This was my chance.
These clubs aren't like those Key West resorts filled with out-of-shape, leather-tanned 60-year-olds (someday, ha). They have a screening process; candidly, I wasn't sure if I'd make the cut. I'm not ugly, but I'm certainly no model and am a little older. But I knew she'd help our chances.
Anyway, to be admitted, you have to provide your real names, profile pix... the whole nine. I did the legwork and got us on the list to a "party" Saturday night in London, but I didn't tell my girl about any of it.
I made reservations at a restaurant. My girl looked incredible — great top, flirty skirt, high heels. Very fuckable. As we were about to walk out the door, I reached under her skirt and pulled off her panties.
"If you want to be a whore, I'm going to treat you like one."
Worth noting that I did this in a very playful and flirty tone, and NOT in some bullshit domineering way. Force will get you nowhere; playfulness is critical with women. I've learned a lot about assertiveness, which we should talk about sometime.
So we went off to dinner, her sans panties, and me avec boner (French humor, people). I kept acting as I had only planned dinner, trying to downplay the evening. As I got the check, I said, "we have two options: head back to the hotel, or I can show you what's behind the mystery door." "You already know," she said. Good girl.
I called us a car, and we headed to the location. In the cab, we started lightly making out. I pulled her skirt up so her pussy was exposed to the night, but I didn't touch her. I wanted to make sure that she knew I was in control. Her pussy is mine to show and do with as I wish.
Ten minutes later or so, we arrived at this swank building. It was out of a movie. Well-appointed. Classically British. We checked in at the front desk and then took the elevator to the third floor. As the door opened, we saw a white paper arrow pointing left. No words were needed.
I knocked on the door, it opened, and a *smoke show* of a woman in a corset greeted us. "What's your name?" In we went.
On the other side of the curtain, we found about 20 people in various states of undress scattered about the loft. It wasn't a full-blown orgy, but some fucking, lots of cuddling, flirting, and drinking was going on. There were a few older couples (meaning 40s or early 50s, though), but most were under 40.
My girl asked "what the fuck is this?" but I didn't answer her. I took her to an open area on a couch, and we started making out. She was instantly wet. I was super intrigued by the room, so I took her to the bar where we started chatting with another couple.
They were in their early 30s. The guy was handsome enough — regular — and the girl was rail-thin, pale, and had a cute black bob haircut with short bangs. That'll do pig... that'll do. (<— Babe quote for the win).
As I said, I'm no model, but I have good style, a great sense of humor, and know how to talk to women. Playfulness is always crucial. I broke the ice, and we all hit it off. We got our drinks and decided to head to one of the areas in the back.
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