14 March 2013

Jailed & Nailed Inside Montreal's Sex Club l'Orage - Part 1

In my series of real Montreal sex stories, I take you inside some of the city's most notorious sex clubs. Read on to find out how my husband and I pick up other swinger couples & hot singles for threesomes, foursomes, and orgies. 
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11:30 P.M. Friday 
Le Ballroom, 3643 Saint-Laurent

PC and I get suckered into meeting up with Mariève, a hot, curvy, 25 year-old unicorn I met playing volleyball on Mont-Royal during the summer. It’s her birthday. She’s celebrating at the Ballroom, a hipster dance bar on Saint-Laurent.

The place tastes like teen spirit. Barely legal and early 20 somethings stumble over each other drunk. Bi-curious young women fall out of their tops and into each other’s arms, making out like an armistice to WWIII has just been declared, celebrating their sexual frustration by exacerbating it with provocative displays of lust that are likely to lead nowhere. (They’ll never fuck. Take it from one who knows: Flirting with straight girls won’t ever get you laid.)

The whole place vibrates with raw, animal hunger for raunchy, ass-slapping, hair-pulling, balls deep fucking. PC and I spend our last fifteen minutes at the club eyeing the crowd nervously, on edge for some sort of release. Waiting for something – anything – to happen. 

Maybe that girl on the dance floor grinding that guy will unzip his jeans and deep throat his cock….

Wait, no, maybe the blonde making out with Mariève will pull down the spaghetti straps holding her bustier in place and squeeze her tits before sucking on her full, juicy nipples….

Ok, yeah, maybe that brunette straddling that guy on the sofa will pull out his cock – he’s already got a hard-on, I can see it through his jeans — and, pulling up her dress, moving her thong aside, will grip his shaft and slide him into her. I can see her hips grinding into him, yeah, his hands gripping her ass, oh, yeah, her back arches, she’s riding him hard, fast, she’s breathing heavy, his eyes are closed tight, I see his fingers hold her tighter, and then….  

It’s all in my head. Nothing. Fucking. Happens. 

1:30 A.M. Saturday Morning – Walking North on Saint-Laurent 

We kiss Mariève goodbye, etc. etc., and escape to the street. As soon as we’re out of earshot of the group smoking by the entrance, I start bitching to PC: “What the fuck was that!?! I’m so horny I could pull you into an alley and facefuck you against a garbage bin!” 

 A devious grin lights up his face. “If it wasn’t so cold I’d take you up on that!” Still agitated, I continue my rant: “No, seriously, I can’t believe that place has no back room.” 

“Now you know why I can’t go to mainstream clubs anymore. It’s all build-up, no action.” PC is walking fast. I have to break into a jog to catch up to him. “Hurry up, Em, or they won’t let us in!” 

“Where? Where are we going?”

“To L’Orage.” 

On a Friday night. Single guy night. I swallow hard. 

To be continued next Thursday….

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