The Sex Club Visit

I solidified a few ideas, met an unusual milestone, and missed out on a special "partner."

I don’t do part ones, twos, etc. so this, like the Breitenbush account, will be a long one where those who aren’t on the app will have to click to read the whole post in their browser. Also, some people may question why I did certain things (or didn’t) in reference to what I previously said in a post or via the introspections below. If you haven’t realized, my journey is a testing ground of many variables, and many times, I do something with careful consideration and other times I do what feels appropriate in the moment. That’s what discovery is all about, especially as I figure out what I like and don’t like.

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I get to check off another pursuit from my solo sensuality list. At this point, I really need to add more items. My interests are waning. I’m becoming cranky about travel. Finding genuine, unique souls is becoming more and more difficult… in any arena. (Thanks, social media, for making us so damn lazy in interpersonal gumption.)

But I’m happy I went, and as one hopefully does with age and experience, I’m solidifying who I am with growing contentment.

So this was my experience at a sex-lifestyle-swingers (for the record, would not label myself a “swinger”) club while keeping the anonymity of others intact and certain details hush-hush to protect everyone except me.

I primped with my playlist and settled with this as my party outfit:

Those legs, right?!

I arrived at what appeared to be an office park, shrugged off the fact that it looked like one of the campuses for a megachurch we attended during our seminary days, entered with a smile, checked-in, and watched an orientation video with the usual about consent and following directions and being respectful. The staff member was surprised that this was my first time because I wasn’t nervous. Why? Should I be? I guess this gave me brownie points because he offered to take out the Sybian for my use later in the evening. (I previously had the chance to use one when I was at a meetup with a woman in Hood River in 2022, but we didn’t get that far.)

The club had a no cell phone use policy for obvious reasons, so I grabbed a water, plopped myself down on a couch in the party area, and took in the surroundings. (Though the club was BYOB, I don’t indulge in settings like these. I rarely drink anymore.) It was still early, but I kept a look out for people I had engaged with on the club’s social portal. Sure, I was getting eyes my way and caught a few men thinking they were being incognito as they stationed themselves closer and closer to my proximity, bobbing their heads to mediocre “sexy” pop hits, but it took a surprising maybe seven (more than five but less than ten) minutes for the first member of the welcome committee to sit across from me.

He was nice but not my type. When he found out I was a writer, he told me about his own writing which centered on a compilation of seven alternative beginnings for Adam and Eve.

Joy.

I asked questions, but I also reminded him I was looking out for a few people. After awhile, he asked if he could show me around the play areas. (Single men cannot saunter through those areas without a female escort, so he basically needed me.) I was bored, so I was up for the field trip. I stopped at the bathroom, remembered who the fuck I was, and told him I preferred to explore on my own. (I’m not the “need to have a friend go with me” type, but in a setting like this, it’s hard not to feel self-conscious being on your own.)

A woman who watched the exchange asked if I was okay. I told her I was and thanked her for asking.

I put my purse in a locker, took in the view of a few people who were taking a shower together, and headed back into the party area.

Thankfully, I spotted a couple I was familiar with online. Double thankfully, they had a large group of friends they introduced me to. Wonderful, wonderful people who also emphasized consent and how pretty I was. I got to know them. A few were veterans of the scene and others were a few weeks/months in.

I noticed a few people had become a bit more scantily clad, so I changed into my play outfit. Some women were big on netted bodysuits with strategic coverups and boots, but readers, you know me. I usually go with my standard classy companion look:

Couldn’t take a pic of me wearing this at the club, but I took pics in advance because my husband wanted to see my looks.

I got the looks and the compliments… and the other semi-familiar patrons from online (and not) introducing themselves to me. I said hi, asked them if they were having a good time, and politely told them I was focusing on my group. Yes, it was important I stayed with my group.

Introspection: I could tell these other men were in various degrees of disappointment when I bid them farewell. (I also kept seeing the Adam & Eve guy watching me with the group.) This is not my favorite. I enjoy being the center of attention, but not when I’m unaware if people are butt-hurt about it. Would I get stopped outside the club when I was leaving? I actually had some men call out to me, using my screen name from the social portal. Felt weird. How do some people define connection? Just briefly saying hi online and hoping it blossoms into something more tangible in real life? I felt safe, but you never know how people will react when they feel rejected.

We moved to a more secluded area to play a card game with sexy questions and actions. My group also reiterated that I could pass on any card. I didn’t need to. We kissed, straddled, touched. I felt comfortable. One husband-wife couple stood out to me. I kissed both of them and squeezed her boobs. I thought her husband was cute.

Then it was announced that the group would be moving to the play area and the cards would be leveled up in spiciness. We found a large enough area for all of us on large beds and continued with the cards.

Introspection: I don’t get “touched out,” but I definitely get “kissed out.” Cards came up with kissing again, and I passed. Some people were good kissers and others weren’t exactly a tongue-swapping match. Kissing also seems more intimate and sacred. Face-to-face, little breathing room, texture, breath, etc. And my group was a-okay with my declining.

Though I passed on kissing, I was bummed when someone else passed on an opportunity to self-pleasure themselves in front of the group. I would have done it, but I didn’t want to come off as an attention-whore. I got my horny urges out by gladly going down on another woman on the next turn.

As our group’s play steamed up, the husband of the couple I liked and I got more friendly with touching and he performing oral on me. I was into it, and we (surprise) had sex (condom obviously used). It started off great and passionate, but then it happened. He lost his erection. He tried to get himself hard again, and we started up again (with a new condom obviously). Again, it was going well until it wasn’t again. (A lot of “again” and “obviously.” Not editing.)

I knew he was bummed and slightly embarrassed. I needed a break, so he tried again with another member of our group while I touched her. And he lost his erection again. His wife sauntered over to him and said something like “I know you want to,” which was meant to be reassuring but just added to the discomfort.

I excused myself to the bathroom but decided it was time to go. I felt bad for him, and I wasn’t in the mood to play with anyone else.

Back in my red romper, I returned to the group and said a quick bye before leaving.

Introspection: On the way home, I realized a weird milestone (?) had just occurred: Out of my intimate encounters with men since we opened up, I officially have had more instances where my partner lost his erection than was able to keep it. What the hell? In one past case, I felt particularly bad, like the issue was me, but looking back and the multiple reasons (“You’re just so pretty;” “Your body’s amazing;” “It’s so damn hot in here;” “I’m just stuck in my head.”) along with two notables:

1. In all cases, the male partners wanted a do-over/another meet-up.

2. I am very confident in what I offer in regard to a fulfilling sexual experience.

I know it wasn’t me. Well, not in a bad sense. This was the husband’s maybe second visit to the club/scene. I’m sure it can be a bit nerve-wracking for men to perform. (He had a pillow glued to his crotch area after we moved to the play area. Possibly a forewarning.)

I also fail to recognize that my chill, nonchalant, confident manner in these settings may appear odd or intimidating to some people who aren’t as comfortable. The goddess digresses.

I got back to my Airbnb a little after 1am (wow for me!), showered, and read a few of the women’s fantasies featured in Gillian Anderson’s Want. This was poignant considering I just engaged in an evening having experiences that many women wish for or only keep within the bounds of their headspace out of fear, comfort, restrictions from their nesting partners, shame, etc.

I closed the book and turned off the lamp. I slipped my hand into my panties and concocted a new, edited version of the evening for myself. Hilarious.

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Briefly, other things I learned:

• It’s definitely better to go with a partner. Ideally, I would have loved to have had sex with a trusted partner (my husband being top choice) while others watched us.

• If I was going to go again (not anytime soon), I would attend on a queer or ladies’ night. I actually enjoyed my trip to the clothing optional hot springs retreat more than this endeavor.

  My Visit to a Somewhat Nude Hot Springs Resort

• Though my group was friendly and respectful, I can still see how it would feel weird rejecting others. I have no problem saying “no thank you,” but it would still feel uncomfortable to be engaging with the same group for the rest of the evening as the single newbie. No one wants to be a voyeuristic tag-along.

• Yes, I love kink and my exhibitionist nature, but I am heavily leaning polyamorous. I thoroughly enjoy the feels, deep connection, and more (to a limit) intermingling of personal lives, but it’s not on my radar. I’m content with that.

• I will have to add “experience the Sybian” to my solo sensuality checklist. Damn.

Some other pics from my trip:

Primped close up (1), both Airbnbs stocked with Gen 1 off-brand Keurigs (2), woke up like this--from a nap (3), nothing is open in Tacoma on Mondays but the glass (4 & 5), some cool purchases (6 & 7)