Before I have an uprising on my hands, I want to categorically explain I did not engage in sexual activity at this sex party. The vow still remains in tact, although for how long now is anyone’s guess. I’m gagging over here! But no, no sex for me. Then wtf was I doing at a sex party? Good question. I must have the willpower of an ox.
However much you may disagree or refuse to ever attend, sex parties are happening all over the joint. So, when I was asked if I’d like to go and review one, I felt it was my mission to check it out and be able to tell you all what actually goes down. Besides, we only regret what we don’t do, right?
A sex party basically means a gathering of strangers in a venue where they then start having sex with each other, through choice. Couples and singles alike attend to either have sex outside their boundaries, or to simply watch others engage in sexual acts. There is never any ‘pressure’ to get involved or to stay until the end of time. Anyway, I got emailed, I said yes so they booked my hotel room and told me 24 hours before hand the actual venue location – it’s all top secret stuff. I felt pretty damn naughty as I packed my overnight bag.
This party was pitched to me as the ‘elite’ variety, in that the applicants were vetted first by the establishment to ensure they’re of a certain standard. Top age was 45 years old and basically, you had to be good looking. There are no single men invited, just couples and single ladies. I was never really sure why this is the case, single men aren’t lepers ya know. Maybe they’re just all horny little fucks. This was one of many rules, such as: past 10:30pm females have to remain in lingerie only and men go topless. You have to arrive in suits and elegant dresses. You can’t get too drunk. No means no. You cannot go outside for a smoke. If you leave at anytime, you’re not allowed back in etc. Oush. Is this a sex party or an orgy prison?
So there I am, in my hotel room rocking some adorable lingerie and a long maxi dress on top. I decided not to roll out full on lingerie because I didn’t want people thinking I was up for it. I wasn’t. At all. I headed to the location, all on my own, and had NO IDEA what to expect when I knocked on the door. Literally, no clue. The only sex party I’d previously attended was an Ann Summers home party where some girl attempts to make commission by selling you vibrators from a suitcase. What I was greeted with was an apartment with a large living room / kitchen area, and then 3 bedrooms. The crowd were in the living room drinking flutes of champagne. The female hosts took my coat and hung it up after I was checked in by the security guard. The first thing I felt as I entered the living room was…disappointment. I’m sorry but, I did not consider these people ‘elite’. I didn’t fancy one man. Not one. There were a few attractive girlies but that was it.
As I stood awkwardly with my champagne trying not to down it all at once, people glided over to me to introduce themselves and start a conversation. It all felt a bit odd, like there’s this massive bondage clad naked elephant in the room. We’re making small talk about business and blogging and work and kids when really, I know everyone is sizing me up to see if they want to try fuck me later. It takes A LOT to put ME out of my comfort zone, but I was wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy too deep here. There were a lot more couples than singles too, so it felt like I was the ‘treat’ for the rest to enjoy.
After drinking and talking, it got to 10 30pm and the hosts split the group up into male and female camps, and we then proceed to take our dresses off. There I am, standing in some stranger’s bedroom, surrounded by suspender clad and bare bum women, wondering what actually is my life. I rolled my dress up and put it in the middle top drawer as instructed by the host, as did the other girls. How can everyone here be so comfortable and so free? I was half envious. They’re all tits out and I’m checking to see if my labels are out. Not sure what else to do, I headed back into the lounge and grabbed another champagne.
So, erm, it seems that as soon as the dresses come off, it’s orgy time. Now, I assure you, I didn’t really understand the idea of a sex party. I thought perhaps there would be quiet areas to go chill, or private spots in case you just fancied one on one time. No, this is not the case. There are only 3 bedrooms and all with a ‘no lock’ door policy. There is no-where private to go. Suddenly the living room was empty and in the master bedroom is a sea of arms and legs. Everyone is naked and fucking. Everyone. There were some couples dotted around the back wall but the main hub of people were on the floor and partners had been swapped like Trump cards in the playground. Considering the idea of this is a fantasy, it is very weird that when you’re confronted with the reality of it, it actually turns you off. I expected to love it. I didn’t. I assumed I’d be interested and turned on, and could at least understand why people go. But for me, it did fuck all.
I stood in the doorway not sure what to do with myself and as I felt a hand run down my back and turned around to see this fugly old man on the receiving end, I headed back to the living room. More champagne. But weirdly, as much as I was drinking, I felt stone cold sober. The one time I actually want to get blind drunk so I can’t see shit, I’m as sober as a judge.
I made my way into one of the empty bedrooms only to then have 2 sets of couples swap partners on the bed in front of me. I was quite happy just to chill and observe before leaving, but what annoyed me is that one of the dudes was pestering me to join in. At one point he grabbed my arm and both girls said ‘no means no’ including the girl he arrived with. Now, it should not take two females to reiterate this point for a man to stop grabbing my arm when I said ‘no I’m fine’ over and over. He was so arrogant I wanted to say “I would join in but your fucking face offends my eyes” but didn’t want to ruin the mood for the rest of the room. So instead, I decided now was the time to go.
I went to the chest of drawers, opened the top middle drawer…and…erm…MY DRESS IS GONE. Yes, that’s right. After searching every single drawer over and over, I discovered MY FUCKING DRESS IS GONE!!!! How? Like actually how? I went to grab one of the hosts only to realise they’re all in the middle of an orgy and there’s no way I can go casually tap on their shoulder mid-pumping, just to point out my dress is gone. I was in a very very sticky situation, and I hadn’t even been spunked on. How on earth am I meant to get back to my hotel room in central London in just my lingerie and a coat, without getting gang-banged on route? Who exactly took the dress? What was wrong with their own dress for God’s sake! I know my outfit choices are spot on but you don’t go stealing girl’s dresses leaving them at a sex party in lingerie. That’s a right dick move that is.
What else can I do, except create a domino dress chain reaction and steal someone else’s dress to go home in. There will be one poor soul at the end with no dress left to steal. I hope she’s drunk enough not to care. I felt horrendous but, I was walking back to my room and did not want to freeze to death or get mugged or worse. I grabbed a dress that half fit and was long like mine, shoved it on, put the coat over the top and exited the sex party.
Luckily, I’m proper chill and immediately saw the funny side. My girls were phoning me in the morning asking how it went, and all I could do was say “it was weird and I don’t know where my dress is.” Seriously, only I could get the balls to attend a sex party to review for my blog, only to have my fucking dress taken and return home untouched wearing a stranger’s dress. R.I.P dress, I hope you’ve gone to a good home.
And to sum up, no, it’s not really my thing but, dress stealing aside, I am glad I went. Jeez the things I put myself through for you lot to read. Next stop – vagina facial and a porn cameo.