A Steamy Spa Date

A Steamy Spa Date

A few years ago, I matched with a guy – Tom*, who lived in Lichtenstein – on a dating app. He was in London regularly, so the distance didn’t bother me much, and we chatted for a few weeks, planning to meet the next time he was in the UK.

However, it just so happened that a friend, who was living in Düsseldorf, had invited me to stay with her for a few days, and I had flights booked. When I told Tom that I was going to be in Germany, his response was incredible: he offered to drive from Lichtenstein to Düsseldorf to come and meet me, and suggested we head to a spa in Cologne for the day. And, as you might know, spas in Germany generally do not involve swimwear…

The rational part of my brain was quick to kick in, warning me that jumping in a car with a relative stranger in a different country was probably not a good idea. But… the adventurer in me was struggling to pass up on the opportunity. How much fun could it be, if it went well? So I flew out to Düsseldorf, secretly fantasizing about the possibilities of a sexy spa date.

My friend worked during the day, so the weekday days were my own; I spent the first couple exploring a new city. I went to the Goethe Museum, wandered around the Altstadt and Königsallee, searched out some great vegan eats, and contemplated the Rheinturm. I met my friend for walks and chats in beer halls when she finished work, and all the while the possibility of meeting Tom was still in the back of my mind.

In the end, I decided to chat to my friend about it, and together we decided that I should grab the bull by the horns. She made me promise to check in regularly throughout the day, took Tom’s details and the address of the spa we were headed to, and told me to message him and arrange it. So… I did.

And, before I knew it, I was standing nervously, and excitedly, outside a coffee shop on my friend’s road, waiting for Tom to arrive.

When he did, he looked just like his pictures, except in person it was far easier to spot the cheeky glint in his eye – something that always makes me weak at the knees. He grinned and kissed me on both cheeks, then grabbed himself a coffee for the road, and… we were off.

The conversation flowed easily, and it didn’t take long for us both to relax. We chatted about all the normal getting-to-know-you type things, but there was also a palpable air of excitement: we had an hour to acquaint ourselves before arriving at the spa and stripping naked, and we had a lot to chat about. Our previous text conversations had already given us an insight into some shared sexual interests, but it was a lot more fun to talk about them while driving to a spa.

I often find that my self-consciousness disappears along with my clothes, and this was one of those times. As Tom and I stood in the changing room and slowly shed our underwear, before slipping on our robes, we caught each other’s eye and giggled. It was an utterly joyful and fun-filled moment.

We spent the next couple of hours dipping in and out of the different pools, and getting told off for talking in the sauna. It was a February day, and the outside pools were my favourite. The air was chilled, and there was snow on the flower bed, but most of the pools themselves were warm. We sat together, in the corner of one of them, with the steam rising around us, and the conversation inevitably turned back to sex.

They were getting fun and flirty, and we shared a few kisses; I couldn’t help but noticed that he was getting aroused. This is something I love about penises… I’m slightly envious of the fact they don’t hide how they’re feeling. Arousal for me, as a person with a vulva, is far less conspicuous, and sometimes I wish it were more obvious. Of course, the fact that it isn’t is definitely a positive some of the time, but sometimes….

And so, I relished Tom’s hardness and made it obvious to him that I’d noticed.

The spa wasn’t too busy and – as soon as he was able to stand up – we went on a hunt for somewhere a little more secluded. We settled on an empty steam room, and started fooling around a little. The doors were glass, so we could easily see if someone was coming, but we were left uninterrupted for a good few minutes, and – honestly – the thought of getting caught was a bit of a thrill. It was hot, and sweaty, and Tom’s fingers between my legs didn’t help.

But the door was opening, and by now we’d been in the spa for a couple of hours. We were getting hungry, so we made our way to the restaurant. Again, it wasn’t particularly busy. The kiosk was in the middle of the room, with tables all around, and to the left were some stairs, which led to another seated area that overlooked the main floor. It was empty upstairs; we made our way up and pushed a couple of chairs back against the wall, so it was as private as possible.

Tom kissed me, and I knelt down in front of him. He was already hard, and I took him in my mouth while he tried to muffle his moans. He then produced a condom from the pocket of his robe and bent me over the chair in front of him. Trying to be as quiet as we could, he played with my clit, bringing me to orgasm, before finishing himself off inside me.

We’d spent the whole afternoon teasing each other, so it didn’t take long. And while we tried to be discrete, I am not certain that we weren’t noticed.

We went for another quick dip, and then we headed back to Düsseldorf, giggling almost all the way. It was certainly a first date to remember!

Tom and I met up a few times after that, in London, and we always had fun. However, while the sexy spa experience was fun, the whole experience is not something I would repeat now, for a couple of reasons. At the time it felt very taboo – being in a foreign spa and breaking the (very strict) rules – but now, I look back on this and feel like it was very “Brits abroad”. That isn’t something I feel particularly proud of.

Secondly, with a few years of kink experience under my belt, I am so much more keyed into the idea of consent, and that includes onlookers too. Public sex is still incredibly hot to me, but I’d much rather do it in a sex club or party. And more on that next time…

*Tom is a pseudonym, but the story is true!