This is so hot!

seattle255:

The fire has cooled since Saturday, when we were still in the throes of the feelings unleashed by hosting our first sex party. A sex party can be such a powerful experience that the emotions, feelings, and sensations it generates do not subside immediately, but rather they maintain their heat, like the byproducts of a nuclear reactor. The aftereffects of seeing a dozen people having sex, writing in pleasure, touching each other, and experiencing an ecstasy that cannot be generated any other way save perhaps drugs, religious mania, or, more rarely, that pleasure that one gets when writing pours forth as a result of realization (as is happening now, as I write this).

That party happened almost by accident: we met a woman through a friend we met on Tinder. That friend is deeply into the BDSM and kink scene: he has an organizer’s energy and a macher’s drive to connect disparate people (sometime we’ll write about the time we met him and some of his friends for drinks, only to find that, while we chatted about work or novels, a gorgeous Greek girl with huge tits got tied up and fucked; we eventually did help hold her town while another girl forced to orgasm via a Hitachi Magic Wand). 

Our narrative, though, is becoming wayward: we’ll call our new friend Zena. She divorced not long ago, and as she put she feels like she’s “20 again.” We can’t be entirely sure what that means, since in key metrics we’re considerably more sexually active now than we were at that age, but we can say that she’s gorgeous, sexually voracious, and totally unapologetic.

On Labor Day she celebrated by hosting a sex party of her own. We went and enjoyed, though we forgot to write about it here. It was apparently her first time hosting, but she too has the energy, desire, and logistical skills to make sex happen. Many others, maybe sometimes including us, don’t. Great sex parties often require some amount of forethought, in order to best lose the self in the moment. She lives in a part of town not that convenient, though her apartment, like her body, is lovely; we enjoyed watching her perfectly erect nipples while she had sex with different men, and the way she so smoothly and firmly moved her hips to accommodate her partners’s penises. J wanted her, but C didn’t know anyone well enough to have sex wit another person that night, so we deferred.

Most importantly for this narrative, at the end of the night we volunteered to have a party at our place. Our new friend, Zena, pounced: we thought we were making vague plans that we didn’t mean and said, “How about Saturday?” C and J talked. 

In the next day or two she confirmed. J was gungho, C reluctant, but keeping someone waiting on a decision is among the most annoying things a person can do. “No” is often better than extended “maybe.” We went for yes: We’d host, she’d do most of the invites.

We undertook a flurry of logistical challenges with invites and coordination. We wanted enough people to make it intense but not so many as to overfill the apartment. Most of the people there were Zena’s, but we invited one couple, Paul and Erica, who we met through a public sex party’s social network. We’d gone out with them before but logistical and health factors complicated matters between us. They came, however (and not just to the front door, if you know what we mean) and so did a very fun woman J knew from a friend’s last-minute invitation to a kink party from months ago.

On the night itself one of our friends stopped by early to set up, but the truth is that we had little setting up to do. He brought lube, condoms, and booze: truly the sort of person who is prepared. Mostly we drank champagne and waited. Zena got to the apartment about 20 minutes early. At the appointed hour guests arrived rapidly: No one wants to be late. For an hour or so we mingled.  

Zena got things started with her friend by kissing him and getting rapidly naked. She likes getting naked and looks good doing it—almost as good as she looks, sounds, and feels when she has sex. That was a sort of gong for the crowd to start. J sandwiched himself between C and another woman, a dancer who is lithe and beautiful and also likes to get naked. From there things begin to blur into an erotic reverie for both of us. If you have ever experienced runners high, or lost yourself in the moment of dancing, or total flow, you will know some of what that feels like.

We had sex while C jerked off or blew our friend. It seemed to last a very long time and a very short time at once. In the dim lighting we could see glimpses of other undulating bodies, but our own sex was too intense to track who was doing what. J held himself by his arms and C positioned herself in a reasonable place on a sofa for the act. By the time we finished everyone else had begun in earnest too. We stopped, drank a little wine and water, and then C began having sex with our friend, who offered great vigor but held her open in positions that were good at the time but caused great pain later. J found another woman, the another he’d been sandwiched between earlier, who he fingered till she came, but he didn’t recover soon enough to have sex with her, despite her hot body and intense sexual feeling. Some women radiate sexuality and that can be extraordinarily hot in and of itself. Virtually all the women there did.

At some point both of our sessions ended and we re-grouped some. There are time gaps here, but at some point J found himself with our friends Paul and Erica. Erica may have been the MVP of the evening, since she went from slightly reserved-seeming to sexually insatiable. She is very pretty in normal life and insanely sex when she’s nude. At one point J was touching her from behind while she alternated between giving blowjobs to Paul and our friend from earlier. Paul may have had sex with someone else too, but we weren’t watching: nonetheless she seemed ecstatic from the attention and the pleasure. It wasn’t clear when or if she came, and J is concerned about coming: Women come in all sorts of different and sometimes not-easily-accomplished ways. Most men, given the obvious stimulation by an attractive women, will get off. Erica remained a slight mystery: her clit was slightly recessed in a way that may have pointed to G-spot orgasms, or a woman with an unusual fondness for buttplugs or similar toys. Still, at the party it was too chaotic to decide on the optimal rhythms and strategy.

A Hitachi Magic Wand appeared. It was used. One guy demonstrated how to use a latex glove and lube to great effect. We plan to try some of his tools and techniques on our own time.

C mingled too but without having sex with anyone else. In the course of this hours had passed. People left the erotic zone. They stood nude, then clothed themselves in lingerie and underwear. Zena apologised for making a tremendous mess on the bed but that’s sex, and we’d thought to change the sheets before anyone arrived. When she was getting tied up and then railed by a guy J had thoughtfully offered our under-the-bed restraints to hold her down and better expose her pussy. In sex mess of the right sort is beautiful.

You know those parties in which people linger seemingly because they have nowhere else to go and too much time? Our sex party wasn’t like that: At some point everyone emerges from their erotic space-time and is ready for something else (often food). Total satiation occurs. C and I were ravenous and knew precisely the right restaurant. We live somewhere sufficiently dense with people to generate good restaurants twenty-four hours a day. We knew precisely the right one. It satisfied. Our dreamy state continued.

Only now as I write this is it coming apart, which is why I must write it now, before the mundane world creeps too far in. Harry Potter is mostly wrong but it is right about a magical world, and we choose that world. Most people, probably including you, don’t. It remains fantasy. We choose, for now, love.  

It seems that in this story we’ve mostly been telling stories about time: its uses, its changes, its power. Time ensures we must do the the things we most want to do while we still can do them. Most of you probably are not doing those things. In Elena Ferrante’s novel Those Who Leave and Those who Stay, Lila says, “Each of us narrates our life as it suits us.” Lila might be right. If she is right, we narrate this because in some sense it “suits us,” though how and why is a question we’ll leave to you. Sex parties break and remake conventional boundaries. Most of us stay in the boundaries imposed by others. Will you?

Next to intense pleasure the needs of politics and bureaucrats fails. Only art and science stand up. Sex is beautiful.

The next morning one of our neighbors, who has an annoying dog, asked what’d been going on last night. J looked at her in the eye and said, “We had a sex party.”