I get home and climb into bed with my boyfriend, who grunts in his sleep as I manoeuvre myself to be in his arms. If anything, I’d further wilt under the lights. Having a baying audience of masked watchers would not spice up my performance. What turns me on, seemingly, is the intimacy of the heat of the moment of being irresistible to someone else. The sex party fundamentally helped me realise my own sexuality too: I don’t find sex, in and of itself, sexy. This was further enforced with an aftercare email all partygoers received the next day. While it was overwhelming at times, it felt safe thanks to the strictness of the rules and the attentiveness of staff, who all walked around wearing t-shirts emblazoned with ‘don’t be a creep’. I admired the space it provided for the adventurous and curious looking to try something new. Sat on the Elizabeth Line with some very drunk office workers, my heels now in my hand, I thought about what on earth I just witnessed at my first sex party. Would you ever try a sex party? Have your say in the comments below Comment Now Terrified at what orifice it may have been wedged inside, I decided to just cancel it when I got home and rely on my Apple Pay. The prim side of me hoped he had hand sanitiser before he touched anyone else.Īs we weren’t allowed to take our phones inside, where I usually keep my bank card, I stuffed my Natwest debit card in my bra and found to my horror that it wasn’t in there. I looked to my left and saw a man with his finger deeply inserted in another woman’s anus, so I decided it was time to go. It was around 12.30am when I returned to the dancefloor, which had mostly been cleared. I wasn’t sure if they were more readily available at the bar, but for all the bare penises I saw winking at me, barely any were rubbered up. While a fair amount of people attending were in established couples or groups, I was taken aback by how few condoms there seemed to be. There was no music there – there was no need for it, with people’s moans of ecstacy and wet sounds of slapping the soundtrack. One square mattress had six people rolling around on it, while another adventurous pair were trying out the sex swing which loomed over us. I was told the upstairs section was a little more private, but there was still plenty of action taking place. Intimacy is on full display at sex parties (Picture: Getty Images) It was a sign of things to come (no pun intended). I shuddered at the thought of his raw, potentially unwashed arse on the leather seats. Immediately, I was confronted with a woman performing oral sex on a naked man, who lay spread eagle in a booth. A man who was part of their group whirled me around on the dancefloor.Īfter another hastily swallowed drink, I decided to visit the so-called ‘dungeons’. One woman, who had been in an elegant white gown, pulled down her sleeves to expose her breasts to an interested crowd. A DJ put on a house remix of Lana Del Rey and people started to undress. Memorable performances included the ballerina, who took off her tutu to reveal she wasn’t wearing any knickers, and a man dressed as a cowboy dancing to Jamaroquai and bursting balloons on a naked woman.Īt 11pm, we were duly informed that the ‘dungeons’ were open, which meant that any sexual play could now take place. You can read more first time advice here.Īs well as general mingling, a cabaret show played on stage, with a variety of acts to get punters in the mood. And if you’re not feeling it, just leave.In his opinion, what goes on there is a bit more complicated than what we think of as swinging. There’s plenty you need to learn if you’re heading to a sex club (Picture: Getty Images/500px)ĭr Chris Haywood, who’s a reader in critical masculinity studies at Newcastle University, has gone to sex clubs specifically to research them in person. Another couple, who were in their thirties, found it helped spice up their sex life. The people I did chat to were friendly one woman, who was 29, told me she regularly went to sex parties to experiment with other girls. I decided to let them crack on – no-one likes a third wheel, particularly not one with a dictaphone. Some of them were already kissing passionately in the small enclosed booths. It was a younger crowd, mostly couples in their 20s and 30s, mingled and chatted. Thankfully, prosecco at the venue was only about £6, so I knocked back a few glasses for Dutch courage (despite being warned ‘not to drink and kink’). I’m certainly no prude, having licked my fair share of peanut butter in my time, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to react at seeing so much sex in such an enclosed, magnified setting. The top-secret location of the ball was released the day before the event, and so I trekked with trepidation to the North East London nightclub with a sick feeling of nerves gnawing at my stomach. I stayed in an unhappy relationship because I couldn't afford to live alone
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