Sex fair

Nothing sells like sex, or so they say.

Well, having seen what I saw last night, I for one am convinced.

My girlfriend and I had been asked by a friend if we fancied a trip to the charmingly named Sexmesse and being adventurous souls we readily agreed.

The event was being staged in a sports hall out in the sticks but that hadn’t deterred anyone.

Neither had the rain.

We arrived and found the queue snaking out of the car park.

We were lucky though. Within minutes it had doubled.

We paid our 165kr (about £16) and ventured in.

I hadn’t known what to expect and was on my guard but nothing quite prepares you for the sight of an old bloke in a wheelchair playing around with a dildo.

Everyone knows the Danes are a liberal bunch but this still struck me as somewhat odd.

Anyway, undeterred we carried on.

The place was absolutely packed. Old, young, gorgeous, ugly.

The sheer weight of numbers meant nobody was embarrassed.

It was on a bigger scale than I had imagined and we were quickly lost amidst a cornucopia of vibrating eggs, beads, butterflys, dolphins, monkeys and princes.

The majority of visitors were ‘normal’ but every now and then someone would stroll past in a fetching latex outfit or wearing a pair of one-sided trousers, if you catch my drift.

The somewhat surreal atmosphere was heightened by the stallholders, the majority of whom looked like retired swingers.

Several looked thoroughly bored and simply stood there smoking, barely attempting to make a sale.

Others were more engaging and were happy to talk up the benefits of the Asian Love Plug you’d happened to pick up, intrigued by the promise of remote operation up to a distance of 15metres.

By now I was extremely hot (temperature-wise) and in need of alcoholic refreshment.

A set of double-doors led to what looked like a bar and I made my way through the crowd and found myself in some kind of inner sanctum.

There I was greeted by the sight of two stark-naked girls promoting their latest DVDs.

I wandered over and struck up a conversation.

“So, are these any good?”, I asked, perusing the racks of DVDs arranged in front of them.

“You bet, I made them! They’re awesome!”, replied one with genuine enthusiasm.

By now I was acutely aware of her pert breasts and neatly trimmed pudenda. And also of my girlfriend’s enquiring stare.

I backed off,  vaguely promising to return.

Back in the main arena, the atmosphere was becoming feverish.

I was somewhat disillusioned. It all seemed a little tawdry.

Stall after stall of badly packaged and dubious quality sex toys. 

I think I had hoped for something more titillating; something genuinely erotic.

A young couple walked past, clutching a strap-on dildo and laughing.

Behind them I spied my wheelchair-bound pensioner.

A companion was handing him DVDs from a shelf and he was selecting the ones he wanted.

We made our way back outside.

The queue had gotten longer.


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