Las vegas sex xlub review. A casual review of the Red Rooster swingers club. [ADULT] (Las Vegas: how much, house).



Las vegas sex xlub review

Las vegas sex xlub review

Posted on June 6, by wonderhussy So, as you may recall I tried sleep restriction therapy to cure my insomnia, and as a result became sleep deprived, angry, sick and miserable. I gave up on it after 5 days, deciding that my new plan of action would be to just relax and be more mellow, and see if THAT helped my sleeping. Now when I wake up in the middle of the night which still happens at least two or three times , I am able to fall back into a regular sleep!

This is a HUGE improvement for me…but at what cost? The thing that always made my life so much FUN was that I would say YES to anything and everything, often hitting up two or three parties in one night, plus working two or three gigs a day. But ever since I started hanging out with Captain Crunch, I spend a lot more time just sitting around, watching DVDs and taking naps and whatnot.

That sleep restriction really fucked with my health, though — I STILL feel like my system is out of whack from the way it compromised my immune system. My face is broken out, my digestion is totally out of whack, and I only just now got over the yeast infection from hell. On the bright side, my lingering health problems came in handy the other Friday night. She was curious to see what the place was like, and was up for a walk on the wild side, and they invited me along because they know I dig those things and am always good for spicing up a party.

The club is actually their HOUSE, a sprawling suburban compound that has been added onto over the years to include features like an indoor pool, a dance floor and an orgy room. I wonder what the neighbors think! First off, the median age of the patrons is around 45 or 50…and there are plenty of swinging grannies in there and I do mean swinging — as in, flapjacks swinging to and fro.

The scene can be best described as an Elks Lodge gathering at a nudist bowling alley where the beer has been spiked with ecstasy, as co-written by John Updike and Hunter S. First off, the place is BYOB — you bring your booze, then check it at the bar in the main room, where they label it with your name, and then pour drinks for you all night long and expect tips, of course. The bartendress grabbed it away from me so she could pour it into a plastic cup, which apparently is the rule.

Next I headed over to the dance floor, where I got busted again, for taking my drink onto the parquet floor. So I had to content myself with sort of dancing off to the side, on the carpet…but the music sucked balls anyway, so who cares. So I was fucked! Phil and I gave our innocent friend the grand tour, showing her the pool area where a black man sat stroking an ENORMOUS erection that stood out in stark relief to his glowing neon-green shirt and then the orgy room, where an obese white woman around the age and appearance of your Aunt Marge was bent over on all fours, being pounded by a skinny, weaselly-looking cholo.

A crowd of about 10 guys had gathered around to watch, but when me and Blondie showed up the focus shifted to us. Last time I went, I remember feeling right at home…but this time, I definitely felt out of place and like an interloper.

Since I had already been to the Rooster once, and had already seen all the wonders it has to offer, I let Blondie stay up there with Phil, and resigned myself to going back downstairs. By this time, my yeast infection was really bothering me, so I went ahead and took off my jeans, and just danced in my wifebeater and purple panties.

When in Rome, ya know…most of the other patrons were in some degree of undress, anyway. Tits were flopping out all over, and none other than Claudia Marie, the Big-Titted Southern MILF was standing by the bar in little more than a 3-pronged shoestring, anyway. So no one even really noticed me! Saved by my gooooood friend Candida!

But when the first guy and I tried, the bouncer kicked us out — apparently you can only go upstairs with the person you CAME with!!! Stay the fuck at home, then! And that might be more interesting!

Anyhoo, I had plenty of other wacky shit going on this week. These friends of mine who are into couch surfing were hosting a couple of photojournalists from Montreal on their sofa, and these visiting artistes were doing a book about sex workers around the world.

For some reason my friends told them they should interview me, so I met them downtown and took them over to this weird abandoned motel across from the Luxor, where they took photos of me and asked me about my foot fetish modeling. That motel was gross — overrun with feral cats, so the empty swimming pool was full of cat piss and those little porno hooker cards they hand out on the Strip.

My friend Michael Maze and his girlfriend came over to photograph me as I was bodypainted by this awesome local artist named Tommy Vinci, as his daughter videotaped the whole thing for her web TV show. What a royal pain in the ASS! Then another day I was trying to make a video for this website I write for, AdultSearch.

Frustrated, I finally gave up entirely and recorded myself singing this Barbra Streisand song, instead. After that, my filmmaker friend came over and shot some scenes of me hanging myself in the shower, running around the house half-naked, and basically doing all those crack-whorey things crack whores do…so it all worked out. The only bummer was that halfway through the shoot, we smelled fire!! I started running around the house like an idiot, trying to figure out where it was coming from — come to find out, my air conditioner had blown a fuse, and was smoking like a motherfucker!!!

Bambu is mostly a gogo dancer, and Helena does belly fetish that puts my pathetic belly fetish forays to shame!!!!!! Anyhoo, I had to rush home after that shoot to get ready for another shoot, where I wanted to do a tribute to Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In.

It came out pretty good! The best part is, I was able to waltz right in in my Goldie Hawn bikini and body paint, and no one batted an eyelash. I hung out there for awhile, then went home to my hot-ass house. It has potential, thought! It was a blast!! It was fun, but it was a 2-day gig and the weather was over degrees both days, so it was kinda draining. Anyhoo, that was all the fun stuff for this week.

Video by theme:

How Vegas Strip Clubs Work: The VIP Room



Las vegas sex xlub review

Posted on June 6, by wonderhussy So, as you may recall I tried sleep restriction therapy to cure my insomnia, and as a result became sleep deprived, angry, sick and miserable. I gave up on it after 5 days, deciding that my new plan of action would be to just relax and be more mellow, and see if THAT helped my sleeping.

Now when I wake up in the middle of the night which still happens at least two or three times , I am able to fall back into a regular sleep! This is a HUGE improvement for me…but at what cost?

The thing that always made my life so much FUN was that I would say YES to anything and everything, often hitting up two or three parties in one night, plus working two or three gigs a day. But ever since I started hanging out with Captain Crunch, I spend a lot more time just sitting around, watching DVDs and taking naps and whatnot. That sleep restriction really fucked with my health, though — I STILL feel like my system is out of whack from the way it compromised my immune system.

My face is broken out, my digestion is totally out of whack, and I only just now got over the yeast infection from hell. On the bright side, my lingering health problems came in handy the other Friday night.

She was curious to see what the place was like, and was up for a walk on the wild side, and they invited me along because they know I dig those things and am always good for spicing up a party. The club is actually their HOUSE, a sprawling suburban compound that has been added onto over the years to include features like an indoor pool, a dance floor and an orgy room. I wonder what the neighbors think! First off, the median age of the patrons is around 45 or 50…and there are plenty of swinging grannies in there and I do mean swinging — as in, flapjacks swinging to and fro.

The scene can be best described as an Elks Lodge gathering at a nudist bowling alley where the beer has been spiked with ecstasy, as co-written by John Updike and Hunter S. First off, the place is BYOB — you bring your booze, then check it at the bar in the main room, where they label it with your name, and then pour drinks for you all night long and expect tips, of course.

The bartendress grabbed it away from me so she could pour it into a plastic cup, which apparently is the rule. Next I headed over to the dance floor, where I got busted again, for taking my drink onto the parquet floor. So I had to content myself with sort of dancing off to the side, on the carpet…but the music sucked balls anyway, so who cares.

So I was fucked! Phil and I gave our innocent friend the grand tour, showing her the pool area where a black man sat stroking an ENORMOUS erection that stood out in stark relief to his glowing neon-green shirt and then the orgy room, where an obese white woman around the age and appearance of your Aunt Marge was bent over on all fours, being pounded by a skinny, weaselly-looking cholo.

A crowd of about 10 guys had gathered around to watch, but when me and Blondie showed up the focus shifted to us. Last time I went, I remember feeling right at home…but this time, I definitely felt out of place and like an interloper. Since I had already been to the Rooster once, and had already seen all the wonders it has to offer, I let Blondie stay up there with Phil, and resigned myself to going back downstairs. By this time, my yeast infection was really bothering me, so I went ahead and took off my jeans, and just danced in my wifebeater and purple panties.

When in Rome, ya know…most of the other patrons were in some degree of undress, anyway. Tits were flopping out all over, and none other than Claudia Marie, the Big-Titted Southern MILF was standing by the bar in little more than a 3-pronged shoestring, anyway. So no one even really noticed me! Saved by my gooooood friend Candida! But when the first guy and I tried, the bouncer kicked us out — apparently you can only go upstairs with the person you CAME with!!! Stay the fuck at home, then!

And that might be more interesting! Anyhoo, I had plenty of other wacky shit going on this week. These friends of mine who are into couch surfing were hosting a couple of photojournalists from Montreal on their sofa, and these visiting artistes were doing a book about sex workers around the world.

For some reason my friends told them they should interview me, so I met them downtown and took them over to this weird abandoned motel across from the Luxor, where they took photos of me and asked me about my foot fetish modeling.

That motel was gross — overrun with feral cats, so the empty swimming pool was full of cat piss and those little porno hooker cards they hand out on the Strip. My friend Michael Maze and his girlfriend came over to photograph me as I was bodypainted by this awesome local artist named Tommy Vinci, as his daughter videotaped the whole thing for her web TV show.

What a royal pain in the ASS! Then another day I was trying to make a video for this website I write for, AdultSearch. Frustrated, I finally gave up entirely and recorded myself singing this Barbra Streisand song, instead.

After that, my filmmaker friend came over and shot some scenes of me hanging myself in the shower, running around the house half-naked, and basically doing all those crack-whorey things crack whores do…so it all worked out.

The only bummer was that halfway through the shoot, we smelled fire!! I started running around the house like an idiot, trying to figure out where it was coming from — come to find out, my air conditioner had blown a fuse, and was smoking like a motherfucker!!! Bambu is mostly a gogo dancer, and Helena does belly fetish that puts my pathetic belly fetish forays to shame!!!!!!

Anyhoo, I had to rush home after that shoot to get ready for another shoot, where I wanted to do a tribute to Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In. It came out pretty good! The best part is, I was able to waltz right in in my Goldie Hawn bikini and body paint, and no one batted an eyelash.

I hung out there for awhile, then went home to my hot-ass house. It has potential, thought! It was a blast!! It was fun, but it was a 2-day gig and the weather was over degrees both days, so it was kinda draining. Anyhoo, that was all the fun stuff for this week.

Las vegas sex xlub review

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1 Comments

  1. There is a hot tub and another area where couples only are allowed unless a single person is invited to play. I never managed to get a good look at Ms. Upstairs there is another bar area with a pole dancing stage and plenty of seating for people to relax.

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