My Friday fun
I spontaneously took a bus Friday for a single reason: My friend Lexi was attending an orgy and I wanted to check it out. It was just a college themed party, so at first I blew it off. I’d already been to my fair share of house parties and I didn’t think this so called orgy party would be fruitful, or even fun. But Lexi assured me that k**s at her school “committed” to these sorts of things, so I admit, my curiosity was piqued.
Casual (but responsible!) sex with strangers has never been taboo to me. While I know there’s a time and place for romantic sex, at this point in my life, I much prefer the no-strings-attached kind. It beats the awkward meeting in class the next day or the weird limbo of expectations that can occur with a friend-with-benefits for whom you suddenly develop feelings. Sure, critics say casual sex is just as awkward when you unexpectedly bump into your one-night stand walking down the street to class, but, hey, that’s what iPods and cell phones were half invented for right? And given the large number of students on my campus, one-night stands with neither expectations nor awkward repercussions are not uncommon. All the same, I’d never actually experienced anything like a party with pure unadulterated sex before.
More than anything, I wanted to see the inner workings of an orgy — I wanted to know what orgy sex looks like. Because while I’m a fan of casual sex, it has to be for the right reason — meaning, for the sake of the sex itself. It can’t be because I’m lonely or hurting or need my self-worth validated by outside sources. I see this kind of casual sex all over my campus — would an orgy be a way to enjoy a purer form of casual sex? Sure, plenty of college parties end in casual sex, but I had never attended a party where the explicit goal was sexual pleasure. Would the party be filled with desperate girls with daddy issues? Annoying frat boys? Or legitimately interesting people who were comfortable with their sexuality?
Getting dressed for the party was the first step. It seemed so simple — you showed up with no clothing, but both Lexi and I agreed that although the rather large bottle of Skyy Vodka we’d been sharing was almost empty, we hadn’t lost enough inhibitions yet to step through the door in the nude.
The invitation stated that a shot would be required for every article of clothing one decided to wear to the party. Clearly if we still had our inhibitions now, they wouldn’t be an issue inside the party. We briefly flirted with the cliché idea of wearing trench coats over lingerie, but finally settled on wearing street clothes over our lingerie and making the final decision on whether or not to get naked at the door of the party.
The amount of alcohol present and the pressure to drink was a bit disconcerting. I’m sure at a more legitimate orgy party, the free flow of booze would have been frowned upon. Consent is absolutely key in any sort of sexual behavior and an orgy party is no different. But no one was so incapacitated to my knowledge that they no longer knew what they were doing.
Once inside the party house, I had to laugh. It looked like a teenager’s interpretation of a cheesy strip club: the lights were dimmed and covered with red Saran wrap, so a red glow covered the room. We took our prerequisite shots at the door and then entered. The walls were covered with printed-out tips on how to perform the most outrageous sex positions, probably only realistic for yoga teachers or Olympic gymnasts.
Also taped to the walls were female condoms and packets of lube, while wrapped male condoms hung from the ceiling on pieces of string (okay, so maybe not entirely like a cheesy strip club). I’ve always been an advocate of safer sex — especially since an orgy suggests sex with total strangers — so the protective offerings were a comforting sight to me. All you had to do was grab your favorite prophylactic and whisk your lucky sexual partner into one of the many side rooms that lined the hallway.
At least, that was the theory of the party. In practice, the dynamic was more awkward than I’d imagined. Granted, my only prior experience of orgies was in porn, where the sex is so unrealistic — laughable even. No pizza delivery guy just happens to show up at a slumber party where the girls forgot cash and have to resort to other forms of payment. Turns out real life and real sex is nothing like porn — even at an orgy.
In other words, there was just as much flirtation and innuendo and small talk as there was sex. And even at an orgy — or, perhaps I should say, even at a college orgy — it’s not particularly comfortable to approach a stranger for sex. The thought of rejection is always a hanging possibility. So the conversations weren’t much different from any other college party — the only difference being that the girls’ clothing ranged from barely there lingerie to flimsy dresses to dominatrix suits, while the boys wore mainly underwear — let’s just say I’ve seen enough Calvin Klein boxers and briefs to design their next spring line. No one was brave enough to socialize naked.
Still, some people managed to overcome the awkwardness — out of the corner of my eye I watched attractive strangers enter side rooms down the hallway, some in twos, some in threes, some in mores. My friend soon disappeared with her boyfriend. Meanwhile, I stood near the makeshift bar and asked for a cranberry and vodka while scanning the room. Nothing like liquid courage to help the process of finding someone to bed.
I started chatting to one guy and the awkwardness dissipated once he realized that I just wanted to talk for a bit — at least until chemistry had been established or ruled out.
Posted by jordyn16 2 years ago Views: