This is a story – a story of a night of fun at an NYC sex club – that I feel at least a little shame in telling. I handled a difficult situation poorly, in a way that has echoes of struggles I’ve faced in the past.
Unexpectedly, I found myself with an opportunity not just to have a threesome with Milica and Charlotte, but also to go to an NYC sex club!
The evening began well. The three of us sat having a drink, and the two ladies couldn’t have hit it off better. In part, this was over-determined. Milica – sexy as fuck, in a short skirt, black tights, a sheer white blouse, a lacy white bra, and chunky black boots – was hell-bent on clicking with Charlotte. Charlotte – also sexy as fuck, wearing an orange dress with a deep “V” and a lacy black bra, revealing a bit less cleavage than usual (but still, plenty) – was hell-bent on clicking with Milica. And both were hungry for my cock. Or at least, for cock. The two of them, soon enough, were kissing more than was appropriate at the table, in the swanky bar, in a weird sort of food court in which we found ourselves. (“Ladies!” I chided, as the waitress delivered round two of drinks while the women were swapping spit.)
Before we left for the sex club, I learned some awful news about a friend. If I’d been thinking straight, if I’d been mature, if I’d been mindful, I would have called the evening to a close. Or, at least, I would have excused myself, to attend to my friend.
I didn’t, though. I was seduced by the opportunity that lay before me: the opportunity of sex with these two beautiful women, and the opportunity to go to an NYC sex club for the first time in years. A club to which I had not been, but which I had long wanted to try.
Instead of pulling the ripcord, I went forward.
This was a mistake.
It was a selfish, cruel mistake.
It wasn’t kind to Milica.
It wasn’t kind to Charlotte.
I failed them both, leaving them unsafe, and, at least in Milica’s case, feeling used. While the night unfolded with not a little hotness (parts 2 and 3 to follow….), the whole thing was, in retrospect, an unforced error on my part. I’ll spend some number of days recovering, as will, I fear, both lovely ladies. [Note: The next post will focus on the hotness, not on the not-hotness, which, for reasons, I’m going to keep to myself.]