May 20, 2010

Swinger Club? 

by Secret Fan

I have long been a nudist, well before my wife and I delved into swinging. In 2006, I had a business trip to London, and it was going to span a weekend. I looked up some nudist things to do in London over the weekend, and found a club in South London called "Starkers". I read some online reviews that indicated that Starkers was pretty normal, at least as far as nudists go. I decided to go- I was with associates in the early evening, and we all went out for dinner and drinks- I eventually dropped my friends off at the hotel and headed down to Starkers via the Tube.

At Starkers, you disrobe in the foyer, bag up your clothes, and receive a paper receipt for your belongings. Wallets and purses and whatnot can be kept, but where to stash them? Ah! the 5 pound wrist purse or the 10 pound belly purse, for purchase!!

The night club is like a dungeon- buried underground, within the bowels of the Industrial section. I strolled in, naked, alone and unafraid, immediately found a ratio of about 10 men per lady, and immediately found the bar where I could nurse Heinekins while I adjusted to my surroundings.

Maybe it was this particular night, but this place was way too male! More so than the reviews let on. Way off in the corner, there was a fellow on his knees giving head to another male. On the dance floor, there were two conservative looking youngsters dancing with each other and mutually masturbating. Yeah, I watched them both have a happy ending.

There were three raised dancing platforms, and on each, a very attractive nude woman was dancing- they were exhibitionists to the extreme, surrounded by the few straight guys that were in the place, and yeah, none of us were getting near them; that night or ever.

As the night wore on, I ventured onto the dance floor, only to be consistently surrounded by every type of gay male, from the stereotypical Biker/leather fag, to the drag queen. I danced with a few guys, just being polite, but also checked my newly purchased wristband for the receipt to my clothes. Couldn't find it. Lost in the club. I checked with the front desk, and they said, yeah sure- if you can find your clothes, you can take them and go.
Inside the storeroom there were hundreds of like Hefty bags piled on top of each other. Impossible task. I returned to the main dance hall and another Heinekin.

On the dance floor, one young, fit guy was particularly aggressive, and he engaged me in a close dance. He massaged my ass and tried to kiss me, although I recoiled from that. He massaged my cock, although, it wasnt getting hard at all, from a combination of the booze, and the realization that the person massaging it was not exactly my type. Still, my libido was in overdrive, and I thought I could get a blowjob out of this, maybe even suck a cock myself for the first time.

He led me to a private area upstairs. Just when I thought we might get oral, he started getting aggressive about sticking his cock in my ass. I still wonder today how I was able to exit that scene without getting my ass kicked. "Gracefully" is the word a lady would use, and I spent the next several hours: 1) being naked, 2)avoiding the dance floor, and 3) sneaking Heinekins from the bar until enough people had departed so that I could find my clothes in the pile in the foyer. Caught a cab back to my hotel at 5AM, and I haven't talked about that night since, until today.

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