External Link/Members OnlySpoiler: I left after 20 minutes having had no sex – straight, bi, trans or otherwise – unless you count getting my todger out and wanking. Previous Bi Fun Club reports might have been filed under trans... don’t see the need here.I went to the Bi Fun Club several times at the big sex party house in Sutton but stopped going because in the end it was mostly middle-aged to elderly men in towels glumly wandering around like undead souls, all waiting for one of the paid female hookers to be free. Except for one long-ago session when I went dressed as a woman, I was one of the undead souls. My interest was mainly in playing with transvestites and the few that attended were not playing for the most part.
After a recent change of location to the cellar at Central Station, a gay bar close to Kings Cross station and also home to the tranny-orientated Sweet Wednesday party, I thought it worth giving the BFC another try yesterday afternoon. Surely there would be more fun to be had with a greater range of people so close to the centre of town?
Nope. During my short time there it was mostly middle-aged to elderly men glumly wandering around like undead souls waiting for one of the paid hookers to be free. There were no towels, so most were naked or in their pants, but wearing shoes.
And it was enormously less comfortable. The Sutton house has several large bedrooms with real beds and lots of seating. It has porn playing in the living room with comfy sofas to relax on and a kitchen with complimentary snacks and soft drinks where you can go wearing just your towel. At Central Station there are blow-up beds, not many other places to sit, and the one porn screen I saw was sited behind the one small sofa. Unlike at Sweet Wednesday, the downstairs bar was closed (allowing more room to play, says the BFC website). So if you wanted anything to eat or drink you had to get dressed and go upstairs to the public bar. And pay, of course.
I arrived at around 2.50pm (it runs from 1pm to 7pm) and paid my £55 single-man entrance fee to Dave, the organiser. Downstairs at the cloakroom hatch I found two (real) women behind the counter and one naked guy with an impressive hard-on standing in front of them sorting out his things. I stripped off to shirt, trousers and soft shoes, stashing my other things in a backpack and leaving it behind the hatch.
In the main area, to my surprise, most of the guys were naked or in pants. I'm familiar with the cellar layout from Sweet Wednesday visits, but it had been adapted with the inflatable beds plus large sheets strung from the ceiling. There were three or four hookers – I'd seen some before at Sutton but I never remember names – and a couple of chubby middle-aged
Lahn-dan gels with enormous knockers. At previous events they were known as “swingers” and behaved differently to the paid sex-workers. Here they were stationed on beds just like the others, so maybe their status has changed.
I saw three trannies, fully dressed and chatting to guys, but not joining in the action. I'd seen them before, too. Every female stationed on a bed or sitting in a corner had a swarm of guys around her, each one quietly jockeying for position and massaging their own cocks. The only opening I could see was with one of those big girls, a blonde, who was being groped from behind as she leant forward against a bed. I knelt on the mattress in front of her and started groping her tits. As the other guy got her into position for doggy-style I got my todger out and rubbed it into life. But when she bent forward and saw it in her face, she said: “We're all using condoms for oral.”
That was the final blow. What on earth was I doing in a hot cellar full of naked, sweaty desperate guys when the best I could hope for was rubberised oral from women I didn't fancy? Another guy kindly held out a condom, but I said no thanks, climbed down, and took another wander to see if anything had changed. It hadn't, so I put my cock away, collected my backpack and went back upstairs. It was 3:10pm.
What had I hoped for? A miracle, probably. Passable trannies who wanted to play. Who knows if things got better later. I didn't have the patience to hang around and find out.
I told Dave, who seems a decent guy doing his best, that it wasn't for me. I didn't ask for a refund and he didn't offer one, but we did have a conversation about what I didn't like. All of the above, basically. If you read his website, he's trying to discourage straight-only guys from this event. It even has this entry in the FAQ section:
“I am single and straight, can I come to your parties?”“The answer is No. You have to be at least bi curious or Hetroflexible [sic] to attend a Bi Fun Club party. Our minimum requirement of being bisexual is someone that doesn’t object to being touched and/or sexually stimulated by a member of their own sex."
On my assessment, nearly all the guys downstairs were simply ignoring this. Dave told me he had asked the girls to gee up the men to get it on with each other, and I did hear the big blonde suggest to one guy that he should suck another's cock. She was ignored.
As for the lack of trannies (two of the three I'd seen downstairs had surfaced and were chatting at a table in the bar at this point) he said he thought most were scared off from his party by the presence of, and competition from, actual women. That being the case, his target audience seems to be totally bi males who want to fuck low-end female hookers
and older regular guys. Not a large market there, if you ask me, but what do I know? An email advertising next Monday's event popped into my inbox this morning with the following summary: “Our first party was held at our new central London venue yesterday and was a big success. We were fully booked and there was lots of horny fun throughout the whole six hours.”
Afterwards I sat with a drink in the bar and researched getting a ladyboy massage in town. I sent a text message to one place and even got on the bus to go there. But they never replied. I got off the bus and was on the verge of calling when a sudden attack of common sense propelled me into the Tube instead and I went home. One blue pill and £55 lighter.
