The Seedy Sex Club

I pull into the car park of this out-of-town industrial estate in my new sporty Honda Civic. I'm off to the usual warehouse for tonight's meet. It's my 5th time here. I'm meeting friends at a nightclub afterwards, I need to get my rocks off now, so I can enjoy myself later, and not worry about pulling. Pulling will be a bonus, but I won't make it my priority if I can get some pussy here.

Stepping out of the car I change out of my comfortable white Adidas and into my red peep toe heels. I straighten my dress, which is too short and boasts plenty of leg. The silver zip down the front is eased down to show my cleavage. My hair is fastened into a bun.

The first time I came here was with Zoe and her husband. They've come once since, but now she's pregnant they've stopped coming. I'm a unicorn. I'm also here for the girls, strictly girls only.

I put my purse and phone into the glove compartment and lock it shut. I attach the electric key to a bracelet on my wrist. It's bulky, but I don't have to carry it and I'm less likely to lose it.

I have a zip-up pocket, it's too small for my key but it holds a fiver, a few pairs of latex gloves, a condom, and a couple of mint-flavoured dental dams, given to me by my GP.

My GP has warned me three times now about the number of STIs I've caught. She had these dams spare from a sexual awareness event she went to. I take what she says seriously, but I'm too embarrassed to use them. I finished my antibiotics and had a clear pass on my last check-up. I'm clean and raring to go.

Right now though, I'm excited, I wonder what girls will be here tonight. My stomach keeps churning with anticipation, and I'm hungry for sex. On the last couple of occasions, I came away without having any sex. I get plenty of kisses from women trying to turn on their husbands. Once they know I'm into girls they like to put on a show for them. I don't like being used as a prop.

I find it uncomfortable because I get turned on, and want to play, but the wives don't want to pursue going past first base unless their husbands get to fuck me. I've never been into cock. I've had straight sex, but it doesn't do anything for me. I get weirded out by it.

The thing is, I adore pussy, lots of pussy, I like it bald and wet, or hairy and wet, stubble is good too, just as long as it's wet. I suppose, though, even when it's not, I can get it wet quickly. I know how to turn a girl on, I can get them eating out of the palm of my hand. My friends joke how I could probably turn Mother Theresa, whoever she is. I like pussy a hell of a lot.

Tits as well, I respect a good pair of tits, the feel of them, big small, real or fake. I like to suck, play and tease them. I like to bury my face into another girl's breasts. The softness of them, the responsiveness of their nipples. Breasts bring me joy.

Then there's a girl's arse so delightful, shapely and devilishly sexy, it's forbidden and taboo. I cherish the feel, the look and the taste. I feel naughty when I'm forcing my tongue into her ring. If they're an anal virgin, and taking it for the first time, the thrill that it brings, as they squeal and squirm for the first time. I take pleasure in squeezing, patting and slapping a nice arse, oh the wonders of a woman.

Of course, legs, I worship the tone of long, shapely shaved legs. Legs turn me on so much. I could spend a day kissing and nibbling up and down a decent pair of legs. Stroking, sliding my hands along them, and feeling their legs. When I finally tease open a girl's legs and pull her knickers down her thighs, that's a sight that gets me dribbling in seconds.

I find the softness, the silkiness of women such a turn-on, they're wonderful. I like women. I enjoy their company. I like doing girlie things with them when I date them or have a full-time girlfriend. I appreciate things like shopping, going to the beauticians with them, and fucking them when we get home. Smashing our cunts together, the stickiness, and the smell. Building up a sweat with them. I love fucking them and being fucked by them. God, I love women.

My last long-term girlfriend was gorgeous, I met her on a night out, she was seven years older than me. Long hair, platinum, silver and blonde. She had delicious curves, her arse was proportionally fat, and she'd turn heads, she was ridiculously sexy, elegant and graceful. I loved the tattoo that ran from her toes, up her ankle to her knee. The tattoo on her forearm and the one on her upper arm.

She was dirty as hell. We'd spend the weekend taking turns having sex, exploring each other and pushing our boundaries. On Mondays, I'd be glad to get respite at work. She was insatiable and greedy for my arse and pussy.

Her appetite for sex and me was voracious. She took me to introduce me to her mum. We stayed the weekend in Devon. At her mum's house, whenever her mum left the room, she'd quickly finger bang me on the couch, trying to get me off before her mum came back. I'd try and fight her off, she thought it was funny, to embarrass me. I obviously didn't really mind, but I'd turn bright red when she came back to the room. Her mum thought I was a little special. It became our little joke.

When we went out for a cigarette, she bent me over a garden urn and finger fucked me up the arse. We were mortified when she realised her mum might have seen us when she was washing up at the kitchen sink.

That's not as embarrassing, as the next morning at breakfast her mum complained about not getting any sleep because we were at it like rabbits all night in the bedroom next door.

I loved her. I sometimes see her in town. Out with her new girlfriend. I can tell when she sees me, that she wants me. She has that little sparkle in her eye. I can tell from her eyes, that they confess that she misses me, they say I miss fucking you. They well up with tears.

She's engaged now. Good luck to them, I didn't want to get engaged, she wanted a big church wedding, it's not my thing. She wanted kids too, I didn't. She's cut her hair, her lovely long hair is cut short. It's darker, with splashes of grey running through it. It's styled and looks ok, but I preferred her looking more feminine and glam. She used to put a lot of effort into her appearance.

She changed after we split. She's now, more jeans and T-shirts. No make-up, she doesn't appear to get her nails done either. You'd always recognize her looking stunning, we both looked beautiful and glamorous, and together we were proud to have one another on our arms. We were always laughing, bringing life to parties and joy to our friends. We'd get our nails done together, get waxed together, and buy our outfits together.

We had great sex together.

I see her now, how she's changed, she looks sad, and unhappy, 'fuck the world' unhappy. Her smile has changed to a frown, her look is tired, sour and miserable. I look at her and wonder where the super, sexy girl I loved and cherished has gone.

Seeing her, I do get sad, for her, relieved for me. I realise too that I'm probably best off without her. The breakup was hard, I cried in bed for days. I now see it as a lucky escape. I try to avoid her if I see her, but she shouts my name, and I have to stop to talk, I'm nice like that, I don't ignore her.

When I see her, I do feel embarrassed that I used to live with her. I hope people don't see me talking to her. I try and make our conversations short and quick.

I would've got back with her if she didn't want marriage and kids. But I won't now, I want an attractive girl, someone beautiful like me. A Love Island type of girl. Someone who'd turn heads, not a washed-up librarian-looking grandma.

At 27, I consider myself at my peak. I'm probably high maintenance too, I spend my money on looking nice, buying the best makeup and clothes. I go on holiday twice a year and buy a new car every three years or so. I go to the gym 5 times a week.

Living with my mum and dad means I have no rent to pay and no bills. My parents are cool, they don't want money from me, and I contribute to the weekly shop. Other than that, my money is my own.

When I moved back home eighteen months ago, they were pleased to have me back. My dad was originally disappointed that I had moved in with an older woman, she was seven years my senior. He'd rather I was straight, but he accepts it now. He eventually got on with my ex-girlfriend, and she was accepted as part of the family - a second daughter so to speak.

My dad wouldn't be happy with me being here tonight. In this seedy warehouse. He just about copes when I have a girl stay over, I have to promise I don't have sex under his roof. Mum, though, she knows I do.

I had to apologise to her for leaving a strapon out on my bed, I needed to clean it after a hard session, typically mum doesn't go into my room, but that day she was hanging my washing up, and saw it. She was so embarrassed. She was more concerned if dad found it, he'd do his nut.

She did go mad when she found my letter from the Drs about one of my STIs. She covers for me and hasn't told Dad, but I know when she's angry with me, and that was one of those times.

Here and now though, at the meet, I get to see a different array of women. I watch them having sex, being fucked, although they're being fucked by men, the throes of a woman climaxing makes me bloody horny.

I get pestered by men following me around, wanking. All too often they're too scared to say anything. They'd probably cry if you did interact with them. I visualise them exploding like a cartoon character, overloading, not being able to compute the fact that a woman is talking to them. I suspect they live at home with their widowed mothers. I'd tell them to fuck off if they did talk to me anyway.

I pull open the door to the warehouse, the big burly man sitting on a bar stool at the entrance looks at me and nods. Being a single lady, I get in for free. There is music blaring, people are scattered about. I can hear the moans of people having sex in the corner by the door.

I walk around for a moment. Heads turn and look, men double take looking for my partner. I don't have one. I'm alone, here for sex with slutty women.

The centre of the warehouse is for those wanting to put on a show. There are beds, big beds under bright lights, sofas and bar stools are placed just outside of the lighted area for people to sit, watch, wank or have sex. It is a little bit more intimate, watching the shows from the shadows.

Some couples walk between the beds gawking, sometimes offering to assist with pleasuring, occasionally one or both of them join in. Invariably, there is a group of men with their dicks out, jerking off.

I start my walk. I see a blonde girl with her husband or boyfriend. She smiles at me. She has to be approaching forty. I look her over, her short skirt is up and around her waist, and she's being fingered by her partner who is kissing her neck. She's looking around the room watching, gazing, building up the courage to be more adventurous.

The girl's legs are bare, long, and white. She is perched in heels. Her legs are a little chubby, cellulite on her upper thighs, not much though. Her hand is draped over her boyfriend's shoulder the other on her hip hitching up her skirt.

I wink at her and blow her a kiss, I think she's about to cum, maybe I helped from a distance. I'll remember she's here and move on.

Stopping a few metres away, I see another blonde woman, she's got her head in the lap of a lucky man. She's kneeling over, being taken from behind. A glamourous young woman sits on the knee of the man receiving the blow job, she's kissing the man, with her hand on the back of the blonde's head. She offers encouragement for her to take more of the cock into her throat.

I monitor the girl's interaction with the woman. I'm interested to see if she's into ladies, or just trying to help her boyfriend have a good time.

The man pummelling the woman from behind looks at me and beckons me over. I smile politely and signal "No!" He nods his head in understanding and continues his beat.

I stay and watch for a moment, looking to see if the girl sitting on the knee is any more adventurous with her hands, does she squeeze the woman's tits, or stroke her back. Touch her in any other way than press the back of her head. I decide to leave it and move on.

I pass numerous couples standing around, watching together. I look at the wives, checking them out. I make eye contact and smile at every one of the women, trying to elicit interest. Some smile back and tighten the grips on their husband's hands. Some look away shocked and embarrassed. The men watch me, my eyes dart past them, making my disinterest obvious.

The women I'm looking for will smile back, their eyes change focus, and they'd fidget subtly. In a way that I'd recognise, and they don't. I'm looking for the girlfriend, the wife who is here for sex, 'to support their husbands', 'to strengthen their marriage', "it's our little quirk'. When in fact they're here to feel the touch of another woman. To experience something new, to test their closeted bisexuality. They're the women I'm looking for. They're up for anything, the husbands will give them space to explore. They're rare though.

As I said, women kiss and play to put on a show for their husbands. When it comes to getting their fingers wet, they want me to suck cock, or open my legs for their husbands. That's the bit I don't like, and I offer my apologies and leave.

I've walked one side of the room now, searching. I've reached the back wall, this is the serious wall. It's close to the bar, it's where couples talk to other couples, they swap partners and fuck. There is a lot of fucking and sucking. It's unlikely I'll meet a woman here, this is where the seasoned pros hang out, they've come to these meets regularly. They travel each weekend, booking hotels staying nearby, fucking near enough the same couples, week in, week out.

I walk through the throng of people, girls on their knees sucking men off. Women bent over bar stools, others on couches with their legs spread being fucked by studs, whilst their spent, limp-dicked husbands watch on.

I get to the bar and buy a bottle of water with the only fiver I've got. It cost three quid but I say keep the change, I've nowhere to keep the coinage.

Leaning with my back against the bar, watching and listening to the debauchery going on, I open my bottle. The lid of the Evian is tight, I squirm as I open it and take a sip.

I turn and look at the wooden panelling six feet away. Women are on their knees in front of holes, masturbating and sucking off strangers standing in the booths behind.

Screwing the lid back onto my bottle, I'm about to walk off when I feel a squeeze on my elbow.

I turn expecting a man to be there propositioning me. It's not. Before me is a tall woman, her straight dark hair cut with horizontal angles, accentuating her facial features. Her hair screams lesbian, her face suggests femme pretty girl. She's a mystery.

She's wearing a tight black vest top with tight black trousers. I can't tell if they're plastic or leather, but I anticipate hot and sweaty boxes concealed within.

Her very high-heeled strappy sandals show off black painted toes and cute feet. She holds out a hand, smartly trimmed black painted nails. I take it, her grip is strong, she pulls me in and kisses my cheeks.

Her hands quickly land on my waist, and I'm being held into place. Gently forced to stay where I am.

She introduces herself, she's Sam, and her husband is Nicky. She asks if I want to move away from the bar, to somewhere a little more intimate. I agree. She leads, I follow, and we hold hands. Nicky follows a few steps behind.

She pulls me into a space at the wall and kisses me. Her mouth tastes of mints, and her lips are soft and thin. Her tongue is active and adventurous. It's a short while before we break. Our hands move over one another. Squeezing, patting and stroking.

She kisses my neck and I open my eyes. Nicky stands next to us looking around the room. He seems disinterested in his wife and me. It's not normal, I'm usually swatting the husband's hands off my arse.

Sam notices. "We're both gay." She says and we kiss again, she continues explaining their relationship. "We've been married 10 years. On our honeymoon he broke down, he confessed he was gay, and he was sorry. I admitted that I was too. I think our gaydars attracted us together as we tried to live with being straight. So don't worry, he's cool. He just wants to be buggered by a hunky man. He's at his happiest when there's a man balls deep in his arse." They both chuckle as he nods.

I move in for another kiss, I feel her hand move around, exploring my arse. Her other hand gently cups my pussy. Only the fabric of my lacy crotchless thong is between us. I feel myself leak.

"You're wet girl." She says, looking impressed.

I kiss into her, as her fingers find their way through the fabric of my thong. She pulls back and drops down. She slides my tight dress up and spreads the crotch of my knickers open. She grins and tucks in.

Her tongue slides over my hot snatch, as she laps at my puffy lips. She sucks at my clit, and I hold her head between my legs. I catch Nicky's eye, and he smiles at me.

"She likes sucking cunt." He laughs and pulls a face like it's horrible.

He steps behind her and strokes her head. "We pretend to be a proper man and wife. It helps us pull the straight couples." He winks.

Her tongue is mischievously toying with me as she sucks at my clit. Her hands run between my legs. I'm trying to concentrate on coming, getting off on this rare encounter, when Nicky starts talking again.

"For all intents and purposes, we are a proper couple. We do things any normal couple would do, we sleep in the same bed, we go out together like to go to the cinema..." He's droning on, I close my eyes and bite my lip as I grind into his wife's face.

"...If either of us pulls, we use the spare room for sex..." He continues. I smile and nod at him. But this isn't working. I back off his wife's face, and she tries to hold me and looks disappointed with me.

"Is he fucking talking too much?" She asks.

I grin politely and shrug, pulling my skirt back down. She stands and grabs Nicky by the arm and marches him off a few paces. I open my water and have another swig. I look over at the couple who are gesticulating with each other.

I look around the room, surveying my options. I'm about to leave to look for the older blonde woman I saw earlier when Sam comes back. "I'm sorry, he just fucking talks. God love him, he needs a wank. I'll have to tug him off if he doesn't pull." I grimace and we both laugh.

She moves back in for a kiss again. She tastes of my cunt, there's no minty freshness this time. Her hands are back running over my body. They slide up my waist and over my tits. She clamps at my nipples through the fabric of my dress. I push my chest out for her to dive in. Her lips graze my upper chest as she plants delicately soft kisses over my skin.

Taking the zip of my dress, she slowly pulls it down, I feel my boobs pressing for the exposure they are getting. They race to free themselves from their prison. Finally the zip pings and races down, she stops at my belly button, and her hands speed over my skin.

My breasts sit proudly on my chest, they are falling ever so slightly. I usually wear a bra and sexy lingerie, but at places like this, I wear clothes for quick and easy access. I don't want to be wasting time stripping off and then playing hunt the bra at the end of the evening.

Her head dives into my breasts, and her immediate pleasure is noticeable. She sucks and plays, her tongue slides over my nipples, and she teases and bites. Her hand's squeeze and pinch. They glide down further to my butt.