My first email-invite sex party is like a normal party in that I want to skip the ice breakers.
Correction: We want to skip the ice breakers. When I first met my boyfriend, Adam, I told him that despite having had group sex with other people in all sorts of combinations, at 21, I was ready to settle down. Settle down as in, “Don’t ask me if I want to have an orgy, it isn’t going to happen.” But we are open-minded and curious in other ways. We decide to go to a sex party with no expectation of hooking up with others; we just want a new experience together. A Halloween-themed sex party will be a first for both of us.
The sex party is like a normal party because I keep circling back to the hors d’oeuvres. On the second floor of the townhouse, couples are facing their partners and dancing. We are dressed as a 1920s flapper couple despite our best efforts to come as an angel and devil pair. I realize that this party is the reason the Halloween store was sold out of our first choice costumes.
In front of a crowd, a man dressed as Jesus takes volunteers to spank on a massage table. Jesus draws his hand away from his subject slowly, bending his wrist away from her. There is a clapping sound when his hand reunites with her ass. I can’t wait for Adam to use me in front of all of these strangers like Jesus spanks his subject.
I feel bad for the people who came alone as I go to explore the third floor playrooms with Adam. We find a lonesome Hitachi near a bowl of condoms on a bedside table. It seems surreal that these empty mattresses will soon be full of strangers having sex. The hors d’oeuvres are on the first floor of the townhouse near the entrance to the basement playroom that has been closed all night. On our third circle around, it is about to open. We are the first ones downstairs.
Going to a sex party isn’t like a normal party because I get to have sex with my boyfriend at the party, instead of waiting to get home. The basement playroom consists of dim lighting and a maze of cushions covering the concrete floor. We make our way to the back left corner and sit down. I look at his eyes and we giggle together, as if we are both about to give each other our virginity, as if to say, “so, do we just..?”
I reach for Adam’s fake tuxedo pants to help him undress. He guides my white flapper dress over my head. My hand moves to Adam’s cock and I start to stroke him. He stops me quickly, though—tells me he wants me to cum first. We are still the only people in the basement. I reach into my pink leather backpack to grab my vibrator, a small hot pink wand with a rose gold wrist strap. I lie down facing the back wall with a flapper-dress-pillow under my head. With Adam sitting to my right, I part my labia with my left hand and squeeze a cold drop of lube onto my clit. I begin to massage myself with the wand and close my eyes. As I circle the vibrator around my clit, I begin to whimper. The cool lube begins to buzz with warmth. I open my eyes to watch Adam, to see him stroke himself, to imagine him inside of me soon.
It happens suddenly and more quickly than usual, despite my regular performance anxiety. I feel my body pulse in waves, my mind swimming in the moans of the party-goers who arrived in the basement after us. As my clit is winking, I manage to whine, “Can I please cum?” Being at a sex party doesn’t mean I can forget my manners.
“Yes. Cum for me. Cum for me right now,” he demands. I cum until my legs begin to tremble and my clit is too sensitive to bear more vibrations.
“Wow,” I recover. We look in each other’s eyes and smirk. I look around and begin to remember again that we are at a sex party. Scanning the room in a shy sweep because I don’t want to ogle anyone, I realize there is another pair of people having sex on our mattress.
My mouth finds its way to Adam’s cock. I squeeze him between my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger as my lips part over his head and envelop him. I bob my head up and down, choking on him, looking up at him occasionally. With my eyes tearing up from gagging, Adam lets out an “Mmm.” Voices of different pitches are moaning and grunting in the background. I wonder how much of this is performative.
After a few minutes, Adam pulls out of my mouth. I open my eyes again and he guides me to lay down on my back. He positions himself on top of me and gently directs himself into my pussy. I am looking at Adam, excited that I am in a sea of moaning but unable to see the bodies the sounds are coming out of. Adam begins to ease into me, and I look up at him with a furrowed brow and an open mouth. He starts out slow, and then speeds up with intensity. We look into each other’s eyes as he rocks upward inside of me.
“Thank you for fucking me,” I whisper. I feel him stretch and fill me completely. After he tells me he is going to cum, he fills me even more.
How long do people stay in the playroom after they cum? I don’t know what is normal, because I am not at a normal party. We sit for a minute or two before tiptoeing and weaving our way out of the crowd of naked bodies.
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