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.