Lesbians having sex in club. ‘club’ stories.



Lesbians having sex in club

Lesbians having sex in club

Skirt Club is a sex club for women only. The founder, who goes by the pseudonym Genevieve LeJeune, says she wanted Skirt Club to be a place where women could feel liberated enough to explore their sexuality: Advertisement Dear God, what have I got myself into this time?

But what do you do past that? What will I do? That someone will magically have to take my place. What do you wear to impress women? Women you might, possibly, maybe get intimate with? Thank the Lord for said flatmate who clearly has a more interesting sex life than my own and lends me a corset, suspender belt, stockings, heels and a trench to cover it all up. As I put my outfit together I begin to feel empowered.

These are the best lesbian dating apps Picture: Getty But I feel that the underwear-under-mac look is one step too much towards stripper and I slip on a cocktail dress. The door to the private five-storey house in Notting Hill is not easily found.

They said it was hidden. As I step inside, a fellow explorer swiftly skips through the doorway behind me. En route she bumps into a friend — neither of whom saw that coming. At the top of the first flight we take a left into the kitchen where a pop-up bar is serving champagne and Berlin-themed cocktails. Getty First-timers are marked out by a key tied around their wrists.

There are quite a few of us. But there are also regulars who greet each other warmly. I stick to my fellow explorer like a Siamese twin. Her friend joins us to make triplets and together we make our way upstairs to see what the rest of the house has to offer. Up on the roof terrace, we look out over West London, lit up and with the excitement of a Saturday night wafting up from the streets below. If only they knew. The atmosphere is civilised, much like a networking event or house party.

Just with all women. During the talk, one woman suddenly arises, walks with purpose across the room to my Siamese twin, holds out her hand and takes her out of the room. And I hope my companion is returned. And the rest of us now look overdressed. Advertisement Then a tiny, nymph-like thing prances into the room and jumps onto the coffee table, freezing in an uncomfortable-looking pose, only for her to stay like that for minutes while the hosts rally round to sort out a technical hitch with the music.

Getty The nymph remains statue-like, smile painted on her face. Eventually the track blasts out and she begins to contort herself in ways that make me grab various parts of my own body in empathic pain. It all feels pretty normal up to this point, but then the nymph finishes doing her thing, and the coffee table that acted as her temporary stage is pushed to the side so the rugs can come into play.

Now the party really begins. A volunteer is called forward for tequila body shots and a nervous but excited first-timer steps forward and obediently lies down.

But remember that episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte gets in with those power lesbians? Career women, who have no time for BS and who know who they are and what they want. Women who are perfectly manicured from head to toe. There are few women here that I would pick out from a crowd to put in this room right here, right now.

But, as I now stare up at the ceiling, the faux fur of the rug warming my back, I can judge them by their tongues. One is now leaning over my naked torso, skilfully licking salt from the top of my thigh, reaching my breasts, that jiggle as I giggle uncontrollably — then enveloping my nipples with the warmth of her mouth — before taking the lime seductively from my teeth with her own. Before slamming back a tequila shot.

It turns out a corset might have been on-point for the theme but it gets zero marks for practicality when it comes to this game and so I set the bar to be the first one to go naked from the waist up. The night has definitely stepped up a gear and these women are in the mood to play. And before I know it I find myself on the sofa with two women — one is the girl I walked in with — kissing each other while our hands begin to head south.

It turns out moving past first base is surprisingly easy. The three bedrooms are now full of women gasping for air and groaning with moans of pleasure. One of the rooms contains an occupied sex swing. The air is charged, but the moments are tender. Or let them do to me. It was a switch. Someone turned a light on, the pace picked up and I went with it.

It feels supportive, loving, new and enjoyable. But I have to admit it feels a little surreal. The girl I entered the party with has a smile that invites me in. Time and time again. Victoria Dawe for Skirt Club Interestingly, though some women nail it first time, others need as much guidance as men. I stay until the end. I say goodbye to the same woman who is the first and last face I see of the night, and step outside to brace the cold, 3am air.

And I feel totally and utterly liberated. To apply to Skirt Club visit their site here. Find more from Hannah Berry George at hannahberrygeorge.

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Lesbians having sex in club

Skirt Club is a sex club for women only. The founder, who goes by the pseudonym Genevieve LeJeune, says she wanted Skirt Club to be a place where women could feel liberated enough to explore their sexuality: Advertisement Dear God, what have I got myself into this time? But what do you do past that? What will I do? That someone will magically have to take my place. What do you wear to impress women? Women you might, possibly, maybe get intimate with? Thank the Lord for said flatmate who clearly has a more interesting sex life than my own and lends me a corset, suspender belt, stockings, heels and a trench to cover it all up.

As I put my outfit together I begin to feel empowered. These are the best lesbian dating apps Picture: Getty But I feel that the underwear-under-mac look is one step too much towards stripper and I slip on a cocktail dress. The door to the private five-storey house in Notting Hill is not easily found. They said it was hidden. As I step inside, a fellow explorer swiftly skips through the doorway behind me.

En route she bumps into a friend — neither of whom saw that coming. At the top of the first flight we take a left into the kitchen where a pop-up bar is serving champagne and Berlin-themed cocktails.

Getty First-timers are marked out by a key tied around their wrists. There are quite a few of us. But there are also regulars who greet each other warmly.

I stick to my fellow explorer like a Siamese twin. Her friend joins us to make triplets and together we make our way upstairs to see what the rest of the house has to offer. Up on the roof terrace, we look out over West London, lit up and with the excitement of a Saturday night wafting up from the streets below.

If only they knew. The atmosphere is civilised, much like a networking event or house party. Just with all women.

During the talk, one woman suddenly arises, walks with purpose across the room to my Siamese twin, holds out her hand and takes her out of the room.

And I hope my companion is returned. And the rest of us now look overdressed. Advertisement Then a tiny, nymph-like thing prances into the room and jumps onto the coffee table, freezing in an uncomfortable-looking pose, only for her to stay like that for minutes while the hosts rally round to sort out a technical hitch with the music. Getty The nymph remains statue-like, smile painted on her face. Eventually the track blasts out and she begins to contort herself in ways that make me grab various parts of my own body in empathic pain.

It all feels pretty normal up to this point, but then the nymph finishes doing her thing, and the coffee table that acted as her temporary stage is pushed to the side so the rugs can come into play.

Now the party really begins. A volunteer is called forward for tequila body shots and a nervous but excited first-timer steps forward and obediently lies down. But remember that episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte gets in with those power lesbians?

Career women, who have no time for BS and who know who they are and what they want. Women who are perfectly manicured from head to toe. There are few women here that I would pick out from a crowd to put in this room right here, right now. But, as I now stare up at the ceiling, the faux fur of the rug warming my back, I can judge them by their tongues. One is now leaning over my naked torso, skilfully licking salt from the top of my thigh, reaching my breasts, that jiggle as I giggle uncontrollably — then enveloping my nipples with the warmth of her mouth — before taking the lime seductively from my teeth with her own.

Before slamming back a tequila shot. It turns out a corset might have been on-point for the theme but it gets zero marks for practicality when it comes to this game and so I set the bar to be the first one to go naked from the waist up. The night has definitely stepped up a gear and these women are in the mood to play. And before I know it I find myself on the sofa with two women — one is the girl I walked in with — kissing each other while our hands begin to head south.

It turns out moving past first base is surprisingly easy. The three bedrooms are now full of women gasping for air and groaning with moans of pleasure.

One of the rooms contains an occupied sex swing. The air is charged, but the moments are tender. Or let them do to me. It was a switch. Someone turned a light on, the pace picked up and I went with it.

It feels supportive, loving, new and enjoyable. But I have to admit it feels a little surreal. The girl I entered the party with has a smile that invites me in. Time and time again. Victoria Dawe for Skirt Club Interestingly, though some women nail it first time, others need as much guidance as men.

I stay until the end. I say goodbye to the same woman who is the first and last face I see of the night, and step outside to brace the cold, 3am air. And I feel totally and utterly liberated. To apply to Skirt Club visit their site here. Find more from Hannah Berry George at hannahberrygeorge.

Lesbians having sex in club

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2 Comments

  1. The girl I entered the party with has a smile that invites me in. The door to the private five-storey house in Notting Hill is not easily found.

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