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 Another man, who was bent over, had a dominatrix run her fingers up his thighs before whipping him with some sort of riding crop. I accidentally made eye contact with one man, who was balancing a woman on his balls while another squatted over his face. Soft music played over the room of writing bodies, which had attracted interested onlookers. The orgy room, at the very back of the venue, saw several couples (and throuples… and more multiples) in a variety of clinches. 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. He walked away.Īt 11pm, we were duly informed that the ‘dungeons’ were open, which meant that any sexual play could now take place. ‘Yeah…like, bandage before bondage?’ I wisecracked. ‘You have to will yourself to make it sexy.’ One man, wearing just a black thong, told me off when I apologised for being distinctly unsexy. My injured foot was a helpful ice-breaker, with people asking what the hell was wrong with me after the initial pleasantries. 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 was targeted by Britain’s worst online stalker Read More Stories I was grateful that it was ‘essential’ that we had to wear a mask, so at least my face was mostly disguised. Anyway, any attempt to look sexy was straight out the window, as an enflamed tendon on my little toe meant I had to wear a thick white bandage, which bulged through my strappy gold heels. I knew I wasn’t going to have sex at the party – I had a boyfriend – and instead kept telling myself this was for research, that I was Louis Theroux with his wry smile at the orgy.Ĭhoosing something white to wear proved difficult – I had nothing particularly sex party friendly, so I opted for an off-cream jumpsuit that I’ve worn to job interviews. We were expected to wear white (‘To hide stains?’ a particularly crude voice said in my head as I spooled through the details). The rules also stressed this was a formal, classy affair, where you were expected to be dressed appropriately or face being turned away at the door. Sex parties are becoming more popular in recent years with a younger crowd (Picture: Getty Images)
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