One of my gay guy buddies recently went to a sex-on-premises club for the first time. He usually avoids gay bars and longs to settle down with a non-sceney guy, so I was surprised to hear my friend had taken the plunge. I was also totally excited for him and eager to extract every tiny detail from his brain.
As a queer of the female variety, one of the few recreational spaces where I’m not catered for is the sex club. While my gay boy pals have a few men-only “spa and sauna” hang outs to choose from – which unlike the local public pool also feature porn lounges, dark rooms and something called a “suckatorium” – gay girls have no committed venue for onsite hanky panky. So I’m eager to know exactly what happens once you’re in there, aside from the obvious.
My friend said it cost around twenty bucks to get in and, to my disappointment, it wasn’t just full of guys getting slammed from behind. There was a lap pool, a spa and sauna, and a bar that also served tea, coffee and cake. What? Cake? At this point I felt insanely FOMO.
My pal stripped off and hopped into the spa where a burly man began to massage his shoulders. It all sounded rather nice. I could imagine lesbians getting into this super-friendly health retreat vibe. “Was there yoga too?” I asked. “Nope,” he said. “No yoga.” But they had a really fun maze apparently, as well as something that resembled a hammock made of leather and chains. He chose not to play
on that.
My friend hit it off with a nice gentleman in the spa, which was getting a bit crowded and soup-like, so they moved to another room to make out. They were having an excellent time fooling around until my buddy looked up and noticed ten other dudes staring right at them, vigorously jerking off.
“Whoa. Was that a turn on?” I asked excitedly. “Nooo,” he said. They moved to a private room.
I didn’t ask for too much detail after that, but I did quiz him on other things. Like, “Did you have to have sex with everyone there?” “No, Mon.” “Oh, ok.”
“Were you allowed to just hang out and talk and not have sex?” “Yes,” he said. But it might be a bit weird. My friend also confessed he was probably more chatty than most guys in the club and was blanked by dudes he wasn’t even interested in.
Hmmm. I bet lesbians would talk. We’d probably get so engrossed in the conversation and cake we’d forget to have sex. Or we’d go home and have it in the comfort of our own bed. The cake, that is. Maybe sex.
Joking, kind of. But I’m guessing lesbian sex clubs don’t exist because the demand isn’t great enough. Ladies, is this a case of queer girls being shortchanged or are we simply not interested?
