I didn’t really think about my attitude towards sex until I started university. Before then, I had sex with who I wanted, did what I wanted, and lived my life on my terms. I lived in a large and lively city, and it was easy to be anonymous and in control of my own body.
The university introduced me to a whole new variety of people, not just from all over Belgium but from the Netherlands, Germany, and even further afield. What I hadn’t realised is that university life itself is actually quite small and contained, and you see the same people over and over again. It was going to a party in my first semester and realising that I’d fucked almost half of the guys there that started to make me think about my promiscuity.
I didn’t feel guilt or shame, though I recognised others might form views about that in this academic community. It did make me think about going back to the life I’d known before university, where I was just having fun and not needing to think about anyone else. I started to separate my academic life and friends from my after-hours life. I still saw other students while I was out, but I was looking for a more mature crowd, and I tended to stay clear of anyone I recognised.
I was wandering back towards the Central Station early one Friday morning and got a flyer from a woman about a parenclub. Parenclub translates literally as a club for pairs, and you could also call them swinging clubs or sex clubs. I laughed and told her that I was not part of a pair, and she told me that single women were always welcome.
I started to mumble something about pairs and singles being an odd number before the penny dropped, and I started to see the possibilities. This wasn’t like going to a student party, getting chatted up, talking, and maybe having sex later. Or often the next date, which I always found frustrating! This was a party where people went just to have sex. Interesting!
I told her I’d think about it, and she said, Why not come along and see rather than think? She offered to meet me so we could go together. You can tell how interested I was by the fact that I agreed to meet her later that same day!
I waited outside the tram stop, and she arrived a few minutes later. The place we were going to was in the suburbs, and we’d need to take a taxi, but she asked if I had any questions.
Lots! I thought. “Umm, a couple!” I said.
We decided to go and get a drink first, and we went to a pub on the other side of the road with lots of outdoor seating.
She was in her mid-thirties and worked in the legal department for one of Antwerp’s diamond merchants. She’d had relationships in the past, but they often left her feeling unfulfilled. She’d get bored with her boyfriends and want to move on, but she found that making clean breaks wasn’t always easy. She went to a parenclub with a girlfriend and loved the experience. Since then, it had been her primary way to have no-strings-attached sex, and occasionally she’d hand out flyers to people who looked like they’d fit in, like me, in return for free entry next time.
She gave me a good introduction to what to do, what to expect, what not to do, and most importantly, that no means no. If I didn’t want to do something or someone, a simple no would stop it. People were thrown out and banned (and worse!) for transgressing that rule, she told me.
We took a taxi to the club, which turned out to be a large house set in pretty gardens. On this warm evening, lots of people were in the gardens, dressed in anything from party wear to lingerie. I was definitely one of the youngest there, and my ID had been scrutinised very carefully on arrival by the reception staff. But everyone seemed happy and friendly, and I felt welcome. I’d say most people were in their thirties and forties, but a significant number were older than that, and there were only a few people in their twenties.
I had been told that after a certain time, only lingerie was worn inside, so I went to get changed. As I changed, I could see people looking at me, and I returned the favour! I had been given a wristband on entry, and that had a token that secured a locker. I was ready to go!
I wandered around the three floors and basement area of the club. At any time, I expected someone to say no, and I’d have to move on, even though I was only watching! The club was full, unsurprisingly, of couples, with only a few unattached females and absolutely no single guys. Did I feel a twinge of sorrow that they couldn’t join? Nope! Too many times I’d gone into bars and been mobbed by guys for me to miss that!
I watched people who were in various stages of fucking, and I watched those who were watching others. I saw couples with couples, and I saw groups of bodies. I even saw the dungeon and a woman tied to an X-shaped frame! It was all a bit overwhelming, but in a very, very, good way! After I’d explored just about every nook and cranny, I went back downstairs. There were very few people outside now, so I found my way to the bar and ordered a tropical cocktail.
A couple asked if they could join me, and I got to know this couple in their late forties. She joined me in a cocktail, and he had a soft drink. They were regular visitors to the Parenclub scene and told me about other clubs I could find in the greater Antwerp area. Some were friendlier than others, some were better for certain kinks on certain nights, some insisted on condoms for all, and some left that up to individuals.
They were both so friendly and wanted to ensure I felt safe and was having fun. We started to talk about sex. They were very open about their likes, and I felt reassured that I would fit in well here. Then they started asking about me, and my escapades interested them. The guy became very hard as we were chatting, but I was a little concerned his wife would be annoyed with that.
In fact, she was the one who said, “It’s obvious he likes you, and I do too, and did I want to go somewhere more private?”
Genuinely, I blushed because I could feel my face getting hot and flushed, but in the faux tropical paradise of the club bar, the dark lighting hid that from them.
“Yes,” I mumbled. She took my hand and led me to a small room with a circular bed. She told me that there were small slits in the walls so others could watch, but that they put a latch on the door as they didn’t want anyone else joining in.
At this point, they undressed quickly, and I followed their lead. She was quite short, curvy with large boobs, had long blonde hair with a few grey streaks, a trimmed bush, and had dark pussy lips. She’d already been fucked before that night, so she was very wet. He was quite tall and muscular. He had a couple of tattoos on his forearms. He has very short hair on his head but a thick, erect cock between his legs. He was circumcised and cut, which is unusually round here. It just made his penis head look even larger and ready to burst!
She beckoned for me to sit next to her, and the two of us kissed. It’s funny how the strangest things go through your mind, but I could smell Van Cleef & Arpels perfume on her. That’s the same that my mom wears; I managed to think but not blurt out, thankfully! Then he stood up between the two of us, and his penis was by my mouth. We shared his penis for a while until he pulled away and gently, but firmly, pushed me back onto the bed, and I opened my legs wide for him.
He teased my pussy lips for a couple of seconds, then thrust deep and hard into me. I gasped and looked up to see her move to my breasts as he continued to pound me. She traced around the nipples and, every now and then, gave them a little bite or nibble. My nipples were standing so proudly that they almost felt sore, not helped by her mouth on them. All the time that this was going on, he kept pounding me fast, hard, and deep. I reached out to her, and she came up and kissed me again, just as I had my first orgasm of the evening.
He just kept going. He hadn’t cummed and wasn’t slowing down. It was another four or five hours later (well, it felt like that, but was probably just a couple of minutes!) before he ejaculated. As he pulled out, I could feel the wetness dripping from me. Often, I’m trimmed these days, but back then, I tended to be shaved smooth most of the time. I felt a mouth on my pussycat and an exploring tongue. It was her, and she was an expert at pushing all of the right buttons down there. As he recovered, I lay there in bliss, which increased even more as she teased further orgasms out of me.
When she’d finished, we sat up and said nice things about what had just happened. I know I sat there with a huge goofy smile on my face, and I thought things were over. No, he had other ideas. He put his wife over the edge of the bed, looking right at me, as he fucked his wife from behind. We kissed and stroked each other as he continued to be a steam hammer to his wife in the doggy position.
When he came, I wanted to go down on her, as she’d done to me. By this time, he was completely spent and resting out of breath in the corner of the bed. She lay back on the bed and lifted her legs back over her shoulders. That’s when I realised he’d fucked her ass, not her pussycat. I’d had hardly any experience with rimming or anything like that, but I went for his juices in her ass as they dribbled out.
Eventually, she dropped her legs back onto the bed, and I spent time enjoying her pussycat. I didn’t make her orgasm, despite trying and despite thinking I was close on several occasions. But we both enjoyed it, and we lay together just cuddling for a while afterwards.
By this time, it was well after one in the morning, and we decided to call it a night. They offered to give me a lift home, and I took them up on that. We exchanged email addresses and promised to keep in touch. And we have done it. Many times!
