Hard On

Last weekend saw my first visit to "Hard On", London's notorious once a month sex-club thingy. The Boyf and I have often talked about going, but now OBM#1 DJ's there sometimes, and with last Saturday also seeing the return of Buck Angel, all roads seemed to lead to "Hidden" (the venue).

Much of Saturday was spent trying to find something to wear. Hard On has a strict dress code, and as usual with these places sadly it isn't bustles or frock-coats. I eventually bought a new pair of combats, which seemed to just about fit with the "uniform" part of the dress code, and backed them up with rubber shorts, which seemed to fit in better with the attire I was expecting to see. Unfortunately that's all they did fit; once I'd returned home and managed to wriggle into them - removing a large amount of leg hair in the process - I closely resembled a sausage that'd been in a microwave too long and had burst out all over the place, with only a tightly restricted bit in the middle. The Boyf tried to calm me down, telling me that I wouldn't look any worse than a lot of the people that were likely to be there. Yeah, cause saying that really helped! So I peeled the shorts back off, taking with it another large patch of leg hair, and reverted to the combats.

On arriving at Hidden I found myself to be utterly over-dressed, even in the queue. People wandered around scantily clad, in and out of the building, to and fro the smoking area. Nudity seemed a popular option. I mean, it saves all that ironing doesn't it? Once inside we had a reasonable wait for the coat check, which I thought would be worse considering many where checking in every item of clothing they'd turned up in. I demurely shrugged off my coat and headed to the bar for a stiff drink. I was going to need it.

We'd arrived early so that we could, er, ease ourselves in gently. Get used to the surroundings before things got... well... rude. Needless to say it was quite a shock to wander through to another room to find someone already being fisted. "Blimey! Doesn't leave much for him to look forward to, does it?", I remarked to The Boyf in a too-loud voice, and we hastily headed back to the bar for more drinks. Finally Our Best Mates showed up, both in combats, making me not so conspicuously over-dressed anymore. Then The God appeared, in chaps - sigh - and looked very pleased to see us. The crowd was growing - full rubber was as popular a choice as nudity. There was a lot of squeaking. I worried about everyone being chaffed the next day.

Finally Buck made an appearance. Er, so, where's the rest of him/her? He/She's tiny! We where then treated to a "policeman" jumping on stage to try to stop the show. He struggled with Buck, who won out in the end and started to strip the "policeman". It was really tense there for a moment. (Rolls eyes). I won't go into gory details, because much of it I couldn't see anyway, being shorter than anyone else in my group. Needless to say, someone got shagged with a truncheon and it wasn't me. We took a quick straw-poll about who'd have sex with Buck, and it seems we all would, and not necessarily up the poop chute either. So she's obviously doing something right.

The rest of the evening was spent on the dancefloor, metaphorically clutching my housecoat around me. The music in the first room was great, I have to say. The second room started off brilliantly, then someone obviously decided that normal house music tempo was too slow, and upped it by a factor of 100%. The last time we went in it sounded like someone had turned a pneumatic drill on and left in a hurry. The lesbians seemed to love it. Couldn't quite work out why. Perhaps it's something to do with the vibrations.

So we danced our arses off and had a very fun night, apart from the time a guy in a gas mask scared the bejebus out of me by sitting in a dark corner in the toilets. I regained my composure and asked if he was my Mummy, but he didn't reply. Or couldn't, I guess. At around 4am The Boyf and I decided to finally venture into the third room to see what was happening. What was happening was that lots and lots of people were having the sex, sometimes not even confining themselves to one at a time. Dirty, dirty birdies! I would have watched slack-jawed but for the fact that I was worried about someone ramming something down my throat without bothering to ask me first. Any hole was obviously a goal. In some cases a large, open-mouthed goal. Along one side were a row of slings. Each was occupied and each occupant was also occupied. The symmetry pleased me. Just standing quietly to one side wasn't enough to deter some people, and before I knew it a hand had slammed down the back of my combats and my arse was slick with lube. The Boyf glared at the guy, I gave a faint smile and a "No thanks" and off he went again.

We left at chucking-out time, having done absolutely nothing naughty, and walked with OBM#1 back to his car, his DJ set over for another month, and then headed home to bed. All in all, we had a thoroughly enjoyable evening out and will repeat it next month I'm sure. In the meantime I'm going to try to lose the bit of weight I've put on over the last few month so that I can squeeze into my shorts without looking like Daffyd from Little Britain. Hopefully the leg hair will have grown back by then too.

Separated At Creation

I'm still trying to find images which back up my claim, but did anyone else notice the similarity between the Monster in ITV1's "Frankenstein" last night and Pete Doherty? Quite uncanny. All the Monster needed was a hat placed at a jaunty angle and a fag hanging out of it's mouth and Kate Moss would have come running. Of course, one is hideously ugly and not fit for society... and the other is the Monster. Boom, Boom! I than kewe.

You Couldn't Make It Up

And "Comedy Headline Of The Year" award goes to...

http://www.metro.co.uk/news/article.html?in_article_id=72330&in_page_id=34

Yes, apparently Kate McCann wants a job in childcare, presumably so she can practise not going out and leaving them on their own. Ooops, lost another one! Better luck tomorrow. There are so many jokes here my mind is whirling.

If you were a parent would you really let her look after your children?

My Favourite Rear

Did I ever mention I like cars? Well, yes, petrol runs through my veins. The Boyf says he finds it very attractive about me as it's very "normal blokey", in his words. What I think he means is that he was just glad I didn't turn out to collect Barbie dolls. Whilst finding it attractive in me he simultaneously seems to find it mind-numbingly boring, especially when I get excited in the street when I spot something rare or interesting. But then I'm sure I don't look terribly excited when he blathers on about Zygons and, er, those ones with the big heads. You know, rumoured to be in the next series. Sounds like Sultana.

So, moving swiftly to the point - finally - I would like to share with you my current favourite backside. It's a Lamborghini Reventon, it costs 1 million Euros, and only 1 is headed to the UK (out of a total production run of just 20). I won't bore you with all the details about who designed it etc. So if you happen to know who's bought that sole Lambo please let me know so I can prostrate myself before it. Thank you.

Must Stay Strong

They're starting to organise the Christmas Office parties at work. Fortunately I still remember last years "do" and am holding firm in my conviction that I won't be attending this year, especially now the intended destination has been announced. How many things wrong can you spot in the following sentence (answers to the usual address at OMO Towers)?

"Office Christmas Party - food at Pizza Express, plus getting drunk in the Slug & Lettuce".

Classy.

Elsewhere, The Boss is still on about his engagement party. He's now told me how glad his intended fiance is that The Boyf and I will be attending because "she doesn't know any gays and can't wait to meet you". Urgh! Also, following on from the "YMCA" comment, another colleague said that they're going to request it and dedicate it to The Boyf and I, so that we can get up and show them how it's done. So it looks like we're simply going to be wheeled out for everyone's amusement - "Oh look, the gays have arrived! Aren't they stylish? And watch them dance!". I do love it when that happens.

Quotes From The Boss: No.2

In the office, 3.45pm this afternoon...

Boss: The DJ that was going to do my engagement party dropped dead at the weekend.

OMO: Christ!

Boss: Yeah, I feel so sorry for his wife. And I need to find a new DJ a bit quick. Don't know any do you? Mind you, I'd need one who doesn't just play "YMCA" and all that queer stuff.

OMO: *blink*

Boss: You know, I need someone to play normal music.

OMO: *blink, blink*

Boss: Which reminds me; I know I invited you and your boyfriend but could you make sure you don't kiss or anything cause there will be children and old people present.

OMO: I'm totally lost for words. Well done!

Wet Again

I'm standing at a bar with a pint. Cider, it's the only thing I drink. Well, not the only thing, of course, but it's my preferred "pint". Everyone I know seems to tell me that they didn't like lager/beer at all when they first tried it, but got used to it because everyone drank it. I just stuck with cider, which I knew I liked after I got a little tipsy on it as an 8 year old when my parents let me have some local scrumpy during a visit to Somerset in the 70's.

I'd just commented that I was really rather pleased that two guys we'd met last time didn't happen to be present. I still wasn't best pleased with one of them after he decided to piss all over me whilst standing at the bar, without any warning at all. We'd just been chatting away and suddenly I'd felt a wet warmth, so I looked down and realised that as he'd been chatting he'd got his cock out and was happily pissing away. I'd had to spend the rest of the evening in cold, damp jeans, reeking of urine. Perhaps it's a local custom.

So, I'd just commented that this guy and his boyfriend weren't around when The Boyf told me I'd spoken too soon. Shit! They wander over to say Hi. Now, I'd like to add that the boyfriend of Pisser - we'll call him Cigar I think - is really rather lovely. Not what you'd call good-looking, but very manly and attractive, and although he looks quite aggressive is actually very unassuming and pleasant. In contrast to Pisser, who never talks about anything other than who he's shagged recently, and how much he'd like to piss up my arse. Charmed, I'm sure.

Fortunately Pisser is paying a great deal of attention to two other guys, both dressed in leather.

Cigar: See that guy my boyfriend is talking to now?

OMO: Yeah...?

Cigar: Biggest cock in Birmingham

The Boyf: Yours isn't exactly small is it?

The Boyf catches my eye and motions downwards with his head. Cigar has his cock out (he's wearing chaps and a jock) and it's in The Boyf's hand. It's hard, and very large. As usual I'd been oblivious to the goings-on. Cigar smiles at me. I cop a feel, as you do.

Cigar then looks over at the guy with the apparently enormous cock, who see that Cigar has his own cock out and wanders over. Rather obviously the guy flops his cock out of his jock. Yes, it's possibly the largest cock I've ever seen in real life. At about 10 inches long I've seen longer, but it's as thick as a Coke can too, and comes accompanied with an enormous pair of balls. It all looks a little incongruous, like the whole lot fell off a small horse and has been surgically grafted on. My hoop involuntarily tightens in fear.

Horsey suddenly produces a condom - a HUGE condom, like a rubber support-stocking - and whips it onto his cock, then slathers in it lube. I notice The Boyf back up against the bar slightly. I do the same, and we shoot a look of fear at each other. And then, without so much as a By Your Leave, Cigar bends over, burying his face in my chest, and Horsey proceeds to force his cock up Cigar's arse. The Boyf and I look at each other in surprise, and Cigar lets out a huge moan as Horsey impales him, right up to the balls. He then proceeds to fuck him incredibly hard as Cigar braces himself against me.

I'm forced up against the bar, clinging to my pint and trying not to spill it everywhere, and to the side of me people are ordering drinks as if nothing is happening. I look over at The Boyf, who's mouth is open in amazement and awe as he leans round to get a better view of the action, like a small inquisitive child. My back's starting to hurt, being slammed back against the bar as I take the force of the pounding. Cigar manages to look up at me; he's a bit slack-jawed and his eyes are slightly crossed. I smile at him, partly out of reassurance and partly just because I'm polite and I can't quite work out the etiquette in such a situation.

Finally, Cigar lets out a roar, which I assume means he's cum, and Horsey pulls out of him. The person next to me orders two pints of bitter and some crisps. I help Cigar to stand up straight and he's looking rather weary, but in a contented kind of way.

Cigar: Christ, that's like being fucked by a rampant pony. It's ripped me apart.

Horsey: Anyone else want a go?

The Boyf (looking nervous): Er.... ahem.... I.... er...

OMO: Christ, look at the time already. Must be off I think. Things to do tomorrow, and all that.

On the way out The Boyf motions to my jeans.

The Boyf: So, that's a 100% record of walking out of that bar with stained jeans then.

I look down to see a huge load of spunk clinging to me...