What do you think of when you hear the word “naughty”? If you are like most moms, I would bet your interpretation ranges somewhere between a raunchy French Maid-esque lingerie ensemble to a surprise birthday blow job for your husband.
But if you are a mom like me, your definition of naughty may take on a unique life of its own. Now, I’m not knocking lingerie and blow jobs. Any attempt at straying from your norm is always a fun surprise. It’s just that my norm is probably not the same as that of any of my friends. Despite working a full time job, having a family, a blog to maintain, an affinity for running, and many other commonalities that come along with the daily life of a woman, my sexual swagger has actually gotten more intense over the years. And I am basking in the glow of it.
One year, after securing a sitter for an entire night, I planned a surprise for my husband’s birthday. If extreme sex were a sport, this surprise would have fit right into that category. The day began with a sweet drive to a remote town extremely far from where we live. We enjoyed a nice dinner, romped around in a posh hotel overlooking the ocean, and then attended a party at the hottest sex club in the area. No, that is not a misprint-it is a confession. I, Michele Fallon, mother of two beautiful little girls, ages ten and eight, took my husband to a club where people walk around naked all night long and have every type of sex you can possibly imagine. And I loved it.
Being that my husband had no idea what the evening plans were, we of course had sex in the hotel prior to our arrival at what I’ll call “Club Sex”. This didn’t present any problems once we got situated in the club later on, but if I had to do it again, I would have avoided the hotel sex. Parties usually begin around 8pm and last anywhere from 3am-7am the next morning, so saving the hard-to-come-by mom energy for the club just makes more sense.
Here’s some more info-the dress code at the club gave us two options: A) Fancy clothes (dresses for women and dress pants and shoes for men) or B) attire that goes along with the night’s theme, which in our case, just so happened to be “french maid”. Looking back on it, I wonder what the men were supposed to wear if they opted for themed attire. I don’t remember seeing any men in french maid outfits or holding feather dusters, but I’ll have to keep a closer watch on that next time.
Prior to arriving, there were very specific rules that needed to be learned, respected and followed. There were a lot of them to remember. Despite what you might be thinking, this place was extremely classy and very protective of its guests. The goal of the club seemed to be focused on ensuring that everyone’s experience was comfortable, and here’s a spoiler-Club Sex succeeded in that regard. After freaking out about being too old to remember the overabundance of club rules, I was able to relax when I realized that most of them were common sense.
Upon entering, there was a small room where we paid the membership fee, got our bracelets and registered for the night. The fact that I now had a membership card in my wallet that did not belong to a local grocery store was thrilling. I could have called it a night right there. But we pressed on.
There was no indication that this was a sex club as we entered through the main door. Drawing back the curtain only revealed a typical dancefloor, DJ, bar, food buffet, tables and couches. Because there was nothing out of the ordinary, a slight panic set in as I wondered if we were going to be stuck in a club environment listening to throbbing house music all night long without engaging in any sexual activity whatsoever. I looked around for a souvenir shop that might have sold “My lover went to Club Sex and all I got was a headache and this lousy t-shirt” paraphernalia. And if I was questioning this entire idea, you can probably imagine what my poor husband was thinking.
After getting our drinks at the bar, he was the first one to speak asking, “So what happens now?” My memory is naturally always a little fuzzy, but it was at that very moment that I wished I would have retained more details about the club rules. Without the rule book to throw out the proverbial window, and being completely unaware of the approved logistics of sexual activity in this particular part of the club, I livened up the party by dropping to my knees, unzipping his pants, and getting to work. It was a short lived minute. My fear of getting kicked out took precedence over my bold blow job move. But as I stood up, there were no bouncers waiting to escort me out. There were just people talking, laughing, drinking and dancing…with clothes on. But no one paid any attention to us at all. No judgement, no disgust, not even a stare.
This gave me confidence, but not enough to try it again. At this point, we were both confused and wondering where the sex was. Where were the dirty mattresses and the crazy orgies? Where were the women dressed like hookers? Where were the French maids…or butlers…or whatever it was that the men were supposed to come dressed as? Other than my quickie blow job test, no one else was conducting anything other than dancing. So, I finally swallowed my embarrassment with a big gulp of wine and asked one of the employees if we were in the right place. He said that I absolutely was, but that it was very early and most of the action I was looking for occurred in the back rooms later on. Breathing a sigh of relief, I went back to my husband’s table and told him the good news. With that, we were able to have a drink, relax, and watch the party unfold before our eyes.
As the hour ended and the next began, the dance floor became much more crowded. At 9pm, there were couples modestly grinding to the beat. By 10pm, women were half naked dancing with their partners or other partners, getting groped or kissed and enjoying every minute. My husband and I joined the party-goers on the dance floor and had our share of heavy petting and making out. But that got old pretty quickly, as the true reason we were there was to see what was behind door number two, so off we went.
After stripping down and stashing all of our belongings into lockers, we entered our first play room. We were mesmerized by all of the beautiful people in the same room just loving on each other. It didn’t take long to drop our towels and get in on the action. I know this sounds very strange to most moms reading this right now, but I have to say that the environment was warm, loving and respectful. Every choice made in that room belonged to each couple. There were no expectations and no disappointments. It was surprisingly refreshing, and honestly, the only time in my entire life where I felt confident that I wasn’t being judged at all. And the kicker-I WAS 100% NAKED!
The night ended in the morning on a couch, with us eating breakfast still naked, still enjoying the insane amount of sex we had and witnessed all night long. For those of you wondering whether or not this occurs on a regular basis, the answer is no. However, after that night, lingerie and blow jobs will never fall into the “naughty” category in our house. We are still sexually adventurous, and we still make sex a priority in our marriage-not because we are obligated, but because it is something we both truly enjoy.
Just because I am a mom doesn’t mean I have to give up on something that is pretty damn great. I’m not just talking about sex, but of the spontaneity of sex and the surprises that it can still hold when other possibilities present themselves.
The excuses that come with motherhood shouldn’t stop you from experimenting and finding something, no matter how risqué, that can make you feel great. To all of the moms out there who think I’m nuts or gross or inappropriate, I dare you all to tap into your sexual freakdom and not have it change you for the better. I dare you to offer yourself the permission to give new meaning to your perception of the word “naughty.”
*This piece was published on BLUNTmoms on April 5, 2016.