Monday, 2 July 2012

Taking a dip


Tinka


Major excitement. We've booked a bed and breakfast so that we can go to our first sex party.

An older couple (in their 60s) posted an event on the site, inviting interested parties to lobby them for an invitation to one of their 'encounters' - something they appear to host on a relatively regular basis. God knows what the neighbours must think, as various couples turn up, park on the median strip, and totter into the respectable pensioners' 4 x 2 in various states of undress.


I imagine the encounter will involve the guests sitting around in the giant spa, drinking shots and who knows what else.

"You can go into separate rooms if you like," they wrote. "We try not to impose any rules beyond the fact we insist everybody treats each other respect." So no shouting "Suck this, bitch", then.


After a bit of email to-ing and fro-ing, we were told we had made the cut and were urged to bring our own booze, as well as 'towels'. Somehow the request to bring towels dampens the sexual ardour somewhat.

I'm fervently hoping it won't just be me and L who turn up because I'm not sure I could do a 60+ bloke, no matter how magnificent his spa is.

"What does one wear to a sex party," I email Cassie. She's busy at work so doesn't reply. I'm thinking it should probably be pretty slutty gear, but I'm only basing this on my relatively limited knowledge of porno movies in the 'gang bang' genre. These mostly seem to involve a plump German frau being humped in an industrious fashion by moustachioed Claus and his mates. 


Sometimes the women are wearing just stockings and shiny red stilettos. Sometimes they'll be wearing a complicated looking corset with ribbons and attachments which, knowing my luck, would get caught in the spa filter resulting in an awkward 'encounter' with the rescue services.


As we're staying in a local b and b, L and I thought we'd take our time to get ready in a leisurely way rather than rushing from home, with the sound of our mewling children still ringing in our ears.

In the meantime, L suggested I take a sickie tomorrow. "We could invite someone round," he said. "From ten til one, and then go to the Dome for brunch."

Brunch swinging. The new cool.

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