Valentines, Baileys, and on my knees for the DJ

 
Valentines, Baileys, and on my knees for the DJ

A night time event

With four kids, Valentine’s Day has never meant date nights or roses. So when the stars aligned for us to try our first evening event, we grabbed it. A friend offered to sleep over with the kids, we booked a hotel on-site, and for the first time in forever, we had freedom. Real, unrushed, late-night freedom.

Until now, we'd only done daytime events (and one chaotic trip to the Annex, which barely counts). So this was different. There was time. Time to slowly get ready in the on site hotel, drink without worry, feel sexy and soft in candlelight rather than daylight. My tiktok dress clung in all the right places, except my boobs, which were determined to escape at every opportunity. Every time I danced, one popped out and needed repositioning. But honestly? I didn’t mind. That dress deserved chaos.

Shitfaced and incoherent

We headed down to the club around 8pm, drinks flowing, music thumping, and straight into a new kind of atmosphere, darker, more charged, more grown-up. I met a stunning blonde who told me her husband sent her to play solo and come home with stories. Definitely not our kink, but fascinating.

Then... more Baileys. My worst best decision. I was drunk. Not tipsy, not warm and fuzzy. Full-blown giggly, slurring, can't-speak-properly drunk. I wandered to the smoking area for air, nodding blankly at questions, grinning like a lunatic. But here’s the thing: nobody cares if you’re drunk in a sex club. It was weirdly liberating.

Limp cocks in a drunken haze

Eventually, we wandered into the couples room. Mr lay beside me while I drifted, listening to two middle-aged couples next to us, wives talking over limp cocks, then casually chatting about holidays and work. It was both surreal and comforting.

Mr’s hands moved over me, gently grounding me. I wasn’t seeking orgasm or power just that strange, safe surrender that only happens when you’re too drunk to overthink and with someone you utterly trust. He saw how far gone I was and wisely ushered me to the bar for water. A good man, that one. Getting me water I collapsed on the sofas and in my drunken state allowed the infamous 70 year old swinger fondle my boobs! Sobering up we then headed for the dungeon.

Waterboarded by a woman

In the dungeon is where we met Lila and Mason. New to us, confident, fun, hot. He watched me from across the dungeon while fucking her. Slowly, subtly, they repositioned across the room until finally they were both on our bed. Lila and I kissed, and  my hands explored her breasts before lowering to her pussy.

She climbed on top of me and I licked her while Mason fucked her from behind. She moaned into another man’s cock as I held her thighs. Honestly, it was hot and even hotter to see Mason’s reaction to me licking her out. All going well until she squirted directly into my face without warning, and I was quite literally waterboarded mid-session. I gasped, spluttered, choked. I guess it’s a rite of passage? But either way, it ended play time.

Consent, Always

Afterwards, once cleaned up and back in the dungeon, a random couple started touching me. Without asking. It pissed me off. Consent isn’t optional, even in a club. I looked at Mr, and thankfully he stepped in immediately, told them off, and reclaimed my space. He saw it, read me, and sorted it. That matters more than he knows.

On my knees for the DJ

We drifted back to the dancfloor. There was a literal pornstar dancing on the pole with a body like carved stone, hair like a shampoo ad, dripping in sex appeal. Not me. Not remotely me. But I couldn’t stop watching. Her confidence was unreal.

Then came the DJ. I'd clocked him earlier. To me, he was the hottest guy in the club and the only one I was really keen to play with, but he was working. We flirted the rest of the night until it was close to closing time and then I sidled into his booth. I knelt. Slid his zip down. Took him deep into my throat while he kept playing tracks. My fingers teased his arse, and the mix of control and distraction was electric. When he came, quietly, behind the decks... fuck. I felt powerful and filthy and entirely alive. The bar staff happily gesticulating to us both knowing full well what was happening half hidden.

A final cumming

Taylor (yes, the gangbang organiser) had waited patiently for his turn all night and I had been hesitant to commit as I wanted the DJ. But I wanted pleasure myself too.  We found a spot in the hot tub room and gave it a go, but it was past 2am by now and both of us were exhausted. I rode him and I came but there were no fireworks.

Mr and I went upstairs, fucked just the two of us, and collapsed into bed.

The long drive home

The alarm came too soon. Babysitters don’t lie in. I dragged myself up, dehydrated, slightly fuzzy, but smiling from the inside out. Completed the 90 minute drive home and spent the day with kids from then on.

Was it the best event ever? No. But it was ours. And it reminded me what I love most about this world: connection and chaos. A shared experience with my husband who always has my back.

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