I can't say that I've been to many of the clubs around the L.A. and Hollywood area. I try a bit here and there, but usually to no avail. Even I know that I'm much more of a tavern kind of guy, but every now and then I like the ridiculousness of the “scene.”

and I opted to join them and see how the venue would compare to the others I'd played in here and there. I liked the setup a little more than a couple nameless clubs I'd previously stumbled into, especially the scenery. I wish I could say that I'm not one for the segregation or selective stocking of the clubs, but every now and then it's quite nice to be surrounded by sexiness everywhere.

It slipped my mind that the group I was with was a little on the “less than tactful” side of the dating/hookup scene, though by no means could you accuse them of being creepers. They're cordial and friendly, but as soon as things move too slow (or not at all), they move on to their next prey. (Score one for the chauvinist.)

In one such encounter, one female piece of prey whipped back and locked eyes with me, and I apologized for my friends in the classy, confident way my two cocktails allowed me: “Sorry for my friends, they're idiots. You're hot.”

Instead of the scoff and/or slap that I expected to receive from this particular blonde, who despite her tiny dress looked as if she were ready to take on the next Boot Camp class, she dragged me to a wall closest to the largest crowd in the club.

We sauntered as if we were going to dance until I felt her hand grimly grasp my cock through my pants. Clearly she liked what she felt and held on. Twirling me around, facing the wall, hidden amongst the drunken crowd, she dropped to her knees. In no time I was entirely in her mouth and it took all my mite not to face-fuck her right there. One of the best I'd ever had.

She came up for air a minute later, and I reached under her hiked-up dress as she kept her grip on me. We could not have been more in sync, and she twitched slightly as I felt her naturally lubed up – nothing could have gotten in the way of shoving me as deep as our stance would have allowed, pinning her against the wall.

I would have rather thrown her up against it, but again, we were in the middle of the club, with a large crowd unaware of what we were doing next to them. (Even I might not have believed it.)

Two minutes later she was done, panting a little, and thanked me before disappearing back into the crowd to meet up with her friends.

Imagine my surprise when I saw her at her desk, waiting for her next client, at the gym the next day.



Salvatore Vuono. 

LA Weekly