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.
