As told by him.
This last weekend we were in Chicago visiting cousins. Because we knew that we’d be there away from the kids, we made plans on visiting a club or meeting up with a couple. We searched the internet, but didn’t have much luck on finding a club. Most of the websites looked pretty shoddy and there were few pictures of clubs. We got the feeling that some of them were people’s homes in the bad parts of town. So then we looked for profiles of couples on the usual swinger social sites. We had a few bites, but anyone who seemed any good wiggled off the hook, and those that didn’t seem to be a good fit for us, we threw back in the pond. We then searched on Craigslist and posted a few ads there. Ads on CL get lots of responses, but again, many of them turn out to either be bots, single women who are too good to be true (probably prostitutes), odd couples, etc. We’re like most people—we want to “date up” not down. Yeah, it’s shallow, but that’s what NSA sex is about sometimes. I’m not necessarily talking about appearance here, but it’s the whole package. We want someone who can have a conversation and who won’t have a soap-opera breakdown during the date. We had a couple of couples in the pool, but nothing too perfect, so we decided to look for a club. At a club, we’re not under pressure to have sex with any specific couple. If we’d been able to chat with a couple for a few days in advance, like we had in the past, it may have worked to meet a couple at a hotel, but it was getting late in the week and we didn’t have any great prospects, so we looked up clubs. This may not be surprising to you, but it is to us: there are no really good sex/swinger clubs here. We’ve found that to be true everywhere. Of course we still have some cities to visit (like Denver), but in Las Vegas and LA and Chicago, we’ve never found a swinger club as nice a nice strip club. They are either old homes or nasty stores in strip-malls. (The only good ones are the ones we’ve hosted at luxury hotels. Yes, we are snobs). So, here it is, Saturday night, our last opportunity in the Windy City, at a family dinner, we were rapidly texting couples trying to hook up a hotel event, but it was quickly falling apart. They didn’t have a hotel room arranged and the guy organizing it was doing it just an hour before the meeting time. It became obvious to us (who had organized these kind of parties before) that he wasn’t going to pull it off. He (Teddy – goes by “Tee”) then texted us telling us that all the hot couples on his list were going to meet at a sex club to which he gave us the address. We looked it up and it appeared that there was a BBW party at that club sometimes. (Look up BBW). We changed into our party clothes (short, Lycra, black dress and glittery-gold high-heel shoes, no bra, no panties for her; semi-formal club wear for him), and headed to the club. When we got there it was in a horrible part of town – no surprise. We were concerned that the car would be broken into while parked on the street since the parking lot behind the building was full. We walked in, and we were the most fit and best dressed people in there. It was a BBW (Big Beautiful Women) Party. It was dark in there with a low ceiling and narrow hallways and had a ramshackled warehouse feel. Cheap green laser lights were mounted to the walls and dull techno music was playing. Men were walking around with their shirts off and their cocks popping out through their open zippers. As we walked by open doors we could see people in groups of five or more in there having what appeared to be sex. No woman other than my wife was less than 200 pounds. She had to pee.
As told by her. Because we were a couple, and because I was very hot, they let us in for free. The bathroom was at the other end of the building. We walked through the gauntlet of sweating people being sure to keep our hands up so we wouldn’t inadvertently brush anything. I left my husband outside the door to the women’s room—unnecessary. Inside I found two transvestites and a short black man. He said, “Are you Christy? I’m Teddy! The German masseuse is on his way, but none of the other couples have showed up yet.” I said, “Oh.” I peed, and then returned to my husband. He was ready to walk me out the nearest door and back to the car, but I headed back into to central, packed hallway. He stepped in front of me and held me close behind him. Later he told me it was so that everyone there would know that I was with him. He was worried that if I walked first, someone may see me first and approach me and try to whisk me away from him. He was to be my protector. We got back close to the main entrance and then I pulled him into a large room. A few men were in there and there were padded benches. I asked him, want to have sex? I was surprised that he looked a little reluctant. Usually he is more willing to try dirty things, but I think this place was almost too grungy for him. But I wanted to submit to him and let him take control. I asked, where to you want to do me? He could have bent me over a bench, but as he told me later, that would have put my face too far away from him and he was sure that some other guy would have tried to put his dick in my mouth. Normally that would have been a huge turn-on for him, but these were bottom-of-the-rung guys in a hell-hole, and we’d never even spoken to any of them. So he chose to just back me up against a wall and keep us face to face. We made out and I pulled my breasts out over the top of my dress. He sucked on my tits and I moaned. Within seconds the crowd around us swelled to 5, then 10, and ultimately 20-30 men and women—all staring at me. I was hot! It was porn material. I moaned and writhed. I hiked up my skirt for all to see that I had nothing on. I fingered myself and had my husband finger me. I whispered in his ear, “what do you want me to do? I want you to control me.” I think I shocked him, usually I’m not one who likes to give up a lot of control, especially in a public sex situation, but I knew that I could trust him. Because of the position, penetration was going to be a little awkward, so he’s need extra lubrication. He said, a little loudly, “give me a blowjob.” I squatted down in front of him, just like I’d seen in the porn movies, and bobbed in and out on his cock. I deep-throated him over and over. I could hear the collective pleasurable groans of the men around me. My husband didn’t keep me down there for long for fear that some other guy may try to push his cock in and want a turn. I could see out of my peripheral vision that there were at least three other guys masturbating within 18 inches of my face. I was just waiting for one of them to cum on me. Once he had enough lube, he pulled me back up to his face and lifted my left leg and pushed his dick inside of me. (His pants and shorts were around his ankles by this time). It didn’t take long for us both to cum. My orgasm was real, but for show, I did ham it up just a little. I wanted it to be heard all over the building. I rubbed and mussed my hair and face and clenched my own tits and grabbed the wall. After he ejaculated in me, I had to think about what to do with it. We hadn’t brought tissues. We forgot. I thought about using the front of my dress or his pants. Either way would be a huge mess, but not impossible in a place like this. I quickly came up with something that shocked even my husband. As he pulled out, I put my hand down there to catch it, and after I did, I brought it up to my mouth for all to see, and I ate it. I’m sure that a few of the dozen guys around me came at that moment. The look of pleasure and shock on my husband’s face was priceless. I brought up another hand to get more out and clean myself out and consume it all. His smile was huge! I sucked my fingers clean. I put my boobs back in my dress and pulled it back down. He pulled his pants up, tucked in his shirt, and buckled his belt. Just like a gentleman, he helped me back on with my shiny silver trench coat, put his arm around me and escorted me out through the crowd. I was a star! Guys approached me and asked if they could have a turn. I just smiled. I heard, “that was amazing” and “what a performance!” I wish I’d had business cards to hand out. We made it outside wearing smiles that would not fade. Running up behind us was Teddy. He thanked us for coming and he said that he’d seen our performance from the back of the crowd. He hoped that we’d come back sometime. He shook our hands (ours were still a little sticky, sorry), and we walked to the rental car. I don’t think we’ll be back.