Suzanne Portnoy

It’s rare that a holiday actually exceeds my expectations, but then, Cap D’Adge is no ordinary place. A purpose built naturist village 45 minutes outside Montpelier, at times it felt like being in a naked version of The Prisoner whilst at other times it was like a scene out of Caligula. Imagine naked senior citizens riding bicycles alongside naked twenty-something hotties straight out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue. Imagine sitting down on a beach surrounded by hundreds of naked people. Then imagine fucking your partner on the same beach whilst fifty men hover around you, hoping to get sloppy seconds.

Sitting in my kitchen now, thinking back on the last three days, I can’t quite believe that I really did manage to gush for the first time, by a perfect stranger who’s face I only saw when I took off my blindfold in a sex club full of hundreds of beautiful people. Or that I sucked off the most gorgeous, tall, dark and handsome french man through a gloryhole. ‘Hi,’ he said when I passed him in one of the many narrow corriders in the club.

‘Hi,’ I said back, not having the faintest idea who he was.

‘You don’t remember me,’ he said.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t.’

‘You sucked me off in the dark room,’ he said.

‘Oh, right. Maybe,’ I laughed.

‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Thank you!’

A good holiday can live or die by the group of people one is with. Of the six people in my group, I knew two - my swinging partner of almost four years and a guy I fucked once at the Gatwick Hilton when my flight was delayed for 6 hours. The rest were perfect strangers, although after our first night together we all were the best of friends, having sucked and fucked each other. I demonstrated my vibrating anal beads. One of the guys brought out his double ended dildo. One of the girls showed us the toy that makes her gush like a hose that has been turned on full. It was an original first night.

The rest of the weekend was spent lying on the beach, entertaining the beach crowd in the afternoon - me with my deep throat blowjobs and the girls by fucking and sucking off as many guys as they could handle. Then it was back to our villa to get changed into our most glamorous, sexy clothes for the evening. Late dinners were followed by very late nights. ‘Ah… ze anglais,’ said one French men in the sex club. ‘They are ze crazy ones!’

I wouldn’t be surprised if the residents are talking about us right now. What a weekend!

Rios, one of my favourite hang-outs on this planet, has had a make-over and it really does look good. Gone are the grotty bathrooms to be replaced by new ones with shiny, modern fittings and sandstone coloured tiles. Gone is the smoking area to be replaced by six new, big playrooms with lots and lots of space for rolling around and having fun. The management have even put signs on the door asking people not to knock when the doors are locked. THANK YOU MANAGEMENT! There is nothing I find more annoying than trying to have sex with a stranger and hearing loads of men knocking on the door asking to come in. Really guys, if I wanted a gang bang I would leave the door open, right?

Gone too is the bar to be replaced by a new bar with new fairy lights around it. I’m still on the bench about the fairy lights. They’re a bit too bright, too garish as are the new posters of semi-naked women adorning all the walls. Black and white photos would have been more tasteful but who am I to complain? And finally, gone too are the old plastic outdoor chairs in the lounge to be replaced by new ones. The walls have been painted, the floors have been redone. Really, it’s almost not sleazy. I’m liking the new, all improved Rios.

I went there yesterday, kind of expecting to get in for free. I was hopeful that after plugging them in two books and on this blog, the Sunday Times and to my friends both here and abroad, that they might decide that maybe they could waive the entrance fee for me. Shit, even one of the guys working there said that he had noticed that more people have been going since I started writing about the place. Working in PR, I know it’s good practise to reward people who help your business to grow.

Well, guess I was wrong, because when I went up to the newly decorated reception area, the girl behind the window still demanded my £3.

‘What happened to £2?’ I said.

‘That was a few months ago. Now it’s £3.’

‘Oh, ok,’ I said, handing over the money. It’s still a bargain. £3. £2. Where else can a girl go for a steam, a sauna, a jacuzzi and a fuck?

Mmmn. And I did get fucked and fingered and licked and caressed and kissed. It really was a fantastic afternoon.