Lizardos & Lizardettes, you are in for a big treat. I'd like you to please welcome my good friend Macy Madison, a stunning woman most recently seen at the Grand Re-Opening Party at 15th Ave. Party Room in Chicago on 6/5/21. She has agreed to write a new series for The Journal entitled "POV", and it will focus on Macy's views of sexuality, the female perspective of the lifestyle, the adult theater/lifestyle club scene, and much more. I could not be more excited to have Macy as part of the rogue's gallery of contributors to The Journal of Adult Theaters!
Do yourselves a favor...Please follow Macy Madison on her Literotica page, as she has a tremendous selection of her stories that are en fuego! Fasten your seatbelts, as her writing will stir you up and make one adjust their panties/pants.
As always, I suggest popping open a Fresca (Hi Gemini!), and settling in with this great first report from Macy Madison!
Here we go!
***
Greetings, this is Macy Madison reporting for “The Journal”. As your undercover unicorn, I am dedicated to going deepthroat deep undercover to bring you the skinny on what’s happening in the local adult party scene.
It’s been a while, hasn’t it? As I was standing in line the other night, I tried to remember the last time I had been undercover. I think I have to go back in time just a bit in order to properly appreciate where we are now.
It was February of 2020. I was in New Orleans for Mardi
Gras. At some point, I was wearing fishnet pantyhose and beads. Oh wait, and my old, hot pink
Chucks. It’s a newbie’s mistake to walk around the French Quarter in good shoes. I was high,
like technicolor, you dropped a house on a witch and now munchkins are singing, high. I was
standing outside the Hustler strip club on Bourbon Street and I looked around and thought,
“this is as real as it gets.”
Or something like that, remember I was stoned.
Macy Madison
There are few times and places in our safely pasteurized, neatly cordoned off world of modern day America that can come close to Mardi Gras. It’s the human soup of life. It's an immersion right into the bouillabaisse. It feels almost pagan in its ritual. It’s as if living in the Midwest, you’re out on a limb. You live on a freshly washed hand. Then you go to Bourbon Street and you’re smack dab in the arterial flow, the primordial ooze. Hold on, it’s going to get messy.
Everything is a lot more real. Every scent is more intense. The flavors of the food absolutely burst in your mouth. The touch of strangers as you cut your way through the crowd is a memory on your skin. Your eyes are literally assaulted with every flavor and shade, accent and costume that you can imagine that humans come in. And underneath it all, pulsing to the bass, it’s there.
Sometimes it’s a steady hum, sometimes it’s a boisterous clamor in your brain, like a jazz riff out of nowhere. It’s the drumbeat of sex.
You feel so alive, it’s almost chaotic. Something that
decadent and delicious has to have an expiration date on it and frankly, Ash Wednesday always
comes as a relief.
Fast forward to a month later when we were quarantined.
Macy Madison
I live alone so there were days at a time when the only meaningful conversation I had was with cats. When I dared to go to the store, it was to grab tasteless, frozen food with both hands, just in case this was it. The last trip. Ever. I looked at the other hoarders around me and sized them up just in case some zombie apocalypse shit went down. The only thing I smelled was hand sanitizer and I always reapplied more, just in case.
We were isolated and fucked and vacillated between despair and angst and the urge to just watch Netflix. Kind of like a Tinder date, but forever.
Fast forward to last Saturday at the 15th Ave Adult Emporium in Melrose Park. Sure, things have been looking up lately. I got my shots taken care of back in March which is the only benefit that I’m aware of that comes with being considered “essential”. I’ve played a bit, on a small scale. I’ve been out and about without a mask. I’ve realized that now when I talk out loud to myself, people just think I’m on the phone. Jokes on you guys.
It had been a while since I felt the old rhythm. It took me a bit to get familiarized once more. Kind of like when your FWB shows up fifteen months later. Even as I stood outside in line, I could feel the raw, sexual energy that palpitated from within. I could feel it echo back the call of the wild from inside my body and it was exhilarating. Like a tiger that’s been caged up for far too long, I could feel something inside pacing back and forth.
Saturday was my first visit to the 15th Ave. Adult Emporium and I felt
safe, accepted and taken into the community immediately. Doc was hilarious and kind and made
me feel at ease immediately. The couples that we sat with were friendly and fun. There were
attractive people everywhere. The outfits were all over the place and of course, because
dressing up is part of my kink, I was dressed. But I found it oddly comforting to know that I
could have just as easily worn yoga pants too and it would have been just fine.
It felt like we all took a breath, there seemed to be a
collective sigh of relief. Here we are, we survived. We survived, we’re breathing each
other’s air and we’re all watching super cheesy porn, together in close proximity. You can see
people’s mouths and suddenly mouths have never looked so sexy. Don’t you just want to
kiss for days? I was feeling pretty antsy as I sat and watched the place fill up. Wet and antsy
and ready to get my freak on.
Macy Madison
The other magical thing that happens in an environment like the Adult Emporium is that we get to shed more than just our clothes. We get to shed our roles. Not only are you free of a mask but you can wear any mask you choose. Or none at all.
This is so liberating as a woman. Most of us in the lifestyle actually have a whole different life. Most of us live in a world where we are buttoned up so tight that you can’t trust a fart. Even without the mask I wore to the office, I’m still masked up in a world where not only can I not be sexy, but my femininity is seen as a professional detriment. My male coworkers are afraid to even talk about anything that involves gender. We’re supposed to have sanitized conversation, squeaky clean and awkwardly virginal.
The fishnet wearing, freaky unicorn inside has a few choice words about that but they’re all NSFW.
Walking through the 15th Ave., I could feel that all business casual douchebaggery had been set aside. Men openly stare and gawk. They might even drool a little. They look right at you while they adjust themselves. You can almost feel their pulse and you can definitely feel it in their eyes. You can absolutely taste the desire. It makes you want to strut. Or sashay if you’re being ladylike. Out of your khakis, you’re a goddess once again. You’ve been restored to your rightful place on the food chain.
Everyone wants to eat you.
A lot is said about sex positivity today but on Saturday night, I felt like I could let my inner slut free and no one judged her, they just wanted to meet her. Want to shake your bare ass in the middle of the room? Want to have your pick of the boys and get exactly what you want? Want to squirt all over the stage? It happened Saturday and I honestly can’t think of a better way to simultaneously celebrate feminine energy and just being alive more than with female ejaculate.
By the way, props to Ginger Squirts for performing the act not once, but twice, in under a minute.
I absolutely loved being on stage with these ladies. We
cheered our hearts out for each other and egged on the crowd. At my age, I’m going to take every
opportunity I get to flash my tits and shake my ass and it felt really good that there was a whole
room full of other people who agreed.
Doc is genuinely interested in everyone having an amazing
time and that vibe is felt throughout the space. The staff were all friendly and helpful and not skeezy
in the least. Everything was remarkably clean and organized and it didn’t feel filthy
even when I was on my knees sucking a cock. We took advantage of the private rooms and I felt like
we were slowly getting broken in again. Even when my escort and I went to the theater, I felt
completely at ease. The gentlemen in the theater were eager to pitch in and really followed
directions. They were like the Amazon Prime of adult theater goers.
Macy Madison
Now that this unicorn has gotten the lay of the land, it feels like the seatbelt sign has been turned off and my next visit will be epic.
I did send messages to a few ladies on Fetlife before coming to this party. I also read some of the questions from ladies in the 15th Avenue Fetlife group. I heard two things reiterated a couple of times that I’d like to report on, now that I have had the deepthroat undercover experience.
No escort? No problem. It seems like the single men who have come to these parties in the past know the drill and they’re planners. If you’re on Fetlife, you’ll be asked, probably more than once, if you want a “date”. Considering how much you want to get your hoe on, it’s probably always better to have a spotter. You know, you might get parched.
As far as your safety is concerned, I never felt that anyone was threatening or weird. It was a good vibe all the way around. That being said, I’m a big believer that as a woman, you need to always set the tone and decide what you want and don’t want and make those intentions known. Use your pussy power for good, not evil.
Second bullet point, no, you’re not going to be body shamed. Let me assure you that there will be about a hundred guys that see you and their eyes will pop out like Roger Rabbit. It was refreshing to see the variety that was in the mix Saturday night. It was beautiful, it was every color, every age, every size and they were all gloriously real and unfiltered. You are going to be appreciated in a primitive, primal way. Absolutely eye fucked. And if that’s all you want to do, I can’t think of a more fabulous way to let your naughty, little exhibitionist minx out for a nice stroll.
If you’re in doubt about coming to a party ladies, as your faithful, deepthroat undercover unicorn, all I can say is that we’re outside again. We’re free, we’re alive, we’re maskless and I guess we still have to wear pants but whatever. It’s time to get wet and sticky again. And that ain’t hand sanitizer I’m talking about. When we were waiting for life to go back to normal, I know most of us contemplated what we’d do differently if we ever got the chance.
Welcome back to the human soup of life. It’s not masked up and germ free and thank fucking god for that. It’s a little bit of beautiful chaos. It’s a symphony of sights and sounds. It’s a parade of skin. It’s a cornucopia of cum. And it’s up to us to stick both our hands in and feel the rush of sensation. You’ll never regret what you did, only what you didn’t do. Or, to put it more eloquently,
I’ll quote a real writer and say, “buy the ticket, take the
ride.”
I know a place where you can do both.
This is Macy Madison, your deepthroat deep undercover
unicorn. Until next time.
***
Doc here again...I'll let you compose yourselves, and where appropriate, make yourself a sandwich.
Wow, what a debut report from Macy! She articulates something real important here, in that we have been deprived from being deprived for the last 15 months. We have been released back into the open air, and it may take a little bit to get our legs back underneath us again. Human contact is OK again, and that should make all of us happy.
Macy has a lot to share with us, and I cannot wait to see what she has next for us!
A final reminder to please show your support and to follow Macy Madison on Literotica! Your nether regions and your brain regions will thank you.
As for The Good Doctor, while I await Macy's next smoldering report, I have an important meeting with a meatball sub in 20 minutes.
As you were.
Thanks,
-Doc
@LizardoJournal on Twitter
