"I can smell cock on your breath", this guy I barely know says to me. I, of course, immediately rushed around desperate for a tic-tac (any flavour except cock, naturally), and on failing that quest, spent the rest of my time breathing into my hand being paranoid that someone may think I had been having blowing someone. A bit silly really as guys were being fucked and sucked all around me and the whole point of that place was to have sex with as many people as you liked. To stand there and pretend you are just there to enjoy the ambience and chat with friends is denying the fact you are a big old whore who wants to get as much cock as time allows.
But I had other reasons why I went there. Especially now more than ever. I used to shag a lot because I was bored and it passed the time. Like doing a crossword or reading the paper. I did it because I could. I am handsome and have a nice body so I am able to meet men rather easily. The sex was nice and occasionally I did get very horny, but the main reason was that I didn't have anything else to do. And it was fun and having sex with randoms is quite exciting, but I forgot about whatever experience I just had almost immediately as soon as I leave the venue.
But now it is different. I go now to stand in the dark where no one can see my scars. I am quite lucky in that the skin healed smoothly and they can't be felt and, in the dim light, they can not be seen. I don't even like sex very much any more. After my breakdown and time on anti-depressants, my sex drive is pretty poor. I can have sex, I still function, but I don't enjoy it that much. And what I end up doing when I am with handsome men is looking into their eyes and feeling rather nostalgic over the lost loves I have had. Now that is something you do not do in a sex club. You go there to shag and go home. No soppy stuff and the romantic stuff does not go down too well.
The not so attractive men may like it and I could probably acquire an ugly man quite easily who will over look my little brush with self-annihilation, but it's difficult for me to shag an ugly bloke more that once.
I now wait for an appointment with a plastic surgeon to see if my skin can be restored to pre slashing of the wrist days, or at least improve it somehow. If he says it can't be done, just as the guy in California said, then I will have to come up with a different plan to try and regain my freedom. I have it now as long as I wear a long sleeved shirt.
