Orgies for Dummies!

What do you wear to an orgy? When I inquired, Jefferson had gone right for the punch line I’d fed him: “Wear something that will look good on my floor.” Hmm.

I assumed that clothes are superfluous at these affairs, but I wasn’t planning on getting naked. At least not very. As I had told Jefferson, and myself, I was going as an observer only. Or, less politely, and more lasciviously, a voyeur.

It just seemed like the logical next step in my brave new world of Living Somewhat Dangerously. I had to go.

Accordingly, I turned up at Jefferson’s one Tuesday night, fashionably late at 8:30.
Outside his door, I could hear voices. Talking, not grunting. “Hi!” Jefferson greeted me. I sloped inside, feeling awkward in my maternal quilted coat and galoshes. I caught a glimpse of his guests: they were all women!

What kind of orgy was this? I had been worried that I’d be the only woman, but instead it was a veritable girl-fest! There were three girls in the living room, all younger than me, and cute. Jefferson introduced me to Avah, and an elegant brunette, and did not introduce me to a remarkably pretty girl whose name, I later learned, was Cody. She had long, straight black hair -- dyed, I thought-- and had a kind of fragile, Suicide Girl quality. I’d kind of like to look like that.

Right, alcohol! I helped myself to a Smirnoff Ice (a girly drink, certainly) from the fridge, and comforted myself by staring at photo’s of Jefferson’s kids, whose faces I had seen grinning at me on several other occasions. He had some new ones of Lillie; that girl is going to be a heartbreaker. Fortified, I sidled back into the living room, but the chairs were all taken, so I seated myself in the dining alcove, feeling wallflower-like.

In the meantime a couple had arrived, or possibly appeared from one of the bedrooms. She, Emma, wore a leather collar around her neck, and he was a plump, red haired specimen who introduced himself as Adam. I don’t want to hook up with him! I thought fearfully. Adam moved towards me and began a conversation with another guy (I don’t want to hook up with him, either! I thought). They were both polite and friendly, though, and we all chatted for a moment.

All the women were cute and none of the men interested me. And everyone was dressed. This was not looking very promising. Jefferson ambled over and pointed to a large, overalled woman sitting on the edge of the couch. “That’s Lolita,” he said.

“Really?” Of course it was; I should have recognized the short red curls. I had seen Lolita’s blog, and her photo. In her photo, she is grinning, but here, her face was polite, and closed.

When I went to the kitchen for a second drink, more people arrived. I was relieved to see a tall, skinny fellow arrive in the company of a pretty girl with a pageboy. Now he was my type.

People were getting a little closer, chatting and laughing in groups. I moved towards a group of girls on the sofa, and positioned myself near them.

Oooh, that tall guy was cute! Usually at parties I spy out the guy I’m most attracted to, and spend the rest of the night plotting to get close enough to him to strike up a conversation and then being disappointed because he’s either really dull or unfriendly or just interested in someone much hotter than me. But here, at an orgy, the economics of popularity and desire don’t have to come into play: you can do everyone. In fact, it might be impolite not to. “Sorry, I’m not interested,” seems pretty hurtful if quantity is the goal, as I expect it should be at an orgy. At an orgy, being picky and having tastes (like, say, for tall, skinny guys) seems like prejudice rather than personal preference.

I went over to talk to Lolita: I am always much more comfortable around women than men. Or rather, I’m quite comfortable being flirty around men, but I am very wary of being rejected and feel safer in the company of women, and more like I can tell myself that this is just a regular get together, without sexual overtones. Of course, this probably isn’t the case when most of the other women there are bi, but I’d just ignore that fact for the time being.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Lily.”

“I’m Lolita.”

“I know, I’ve seen your blog.” We talked for a few minutes, and the conversation around us grew more animated. I watched as Adam slipped a strange nail-like attachment across his fingers and slip these pointed claws across his girlfriend’s neck. “Ah,” Emma shivered.

“They’re camel bone,” I heard Adam explain to the Tall Cute One and his girlfriend. He demonstrated the claws on the Tall Cute One’s girlfriend, who was called Kit. I edged a little closer to this conversation. Adam looked at me. “Want to give me your arm?”

I pushed up the sleeves of my waist-tie sweater and waited as Adam ran the nails down my arm. It doesn’t scratch at all! I thought, a little disappointed. It was the lightest, most whispery touch. Did I want it to scratch? That was an idea.

Jefferson appeared, shirtless. “Mmmark is here!” he crowed. “Mmmark is a catalyst [for the orgy]. Because he’s so hot!” I turned to see the new arrival, the catalyst. Oh, my God, Jefferson was right: Mark was hot. Really cute, in a wholesome Chris O’Donnell way, but with the nice urban polish of a little hair gel and proper clothes. “Or maybe he’s the catalyst because he’s usually late,” Jefferson amended.

We sat on the sofa and he pointed to the Tall Cute One: “Last time, his girlfriend fucked him with a strap on; you should hear it when a straight guy moans like that.”

People began moving into groups and disappearing down the hall. But I wasn’t ready to venture down that road (literally), so I hovered in the living room, talking to the few others who were hanging back. One of the women was called Callie; she had brought sugar cookies, which I thought was a homey touch.

I ended up on the couch with the Tall Cute One, whose name was Jed, his girlfriend Kit, and Adam and Emma. I sat next to Emma, with Adam looming over us in an armchair. I wanted to get a bit closer to Jed.

All of a sudden we heard cries: “Oooh! Oooh! Ahh!” followed by a silence, and then more moaning.

“Avah,” detected Jed. We all giggled. She had sounded very ... involved. After a moment Lolita appeared, looking disheveled. “Who wants to fuck a tied-up girl?” she asked. Her overalls were unbuttoned, revealing a black bra. None of us took her up on the offer, so after a moment Lolita disappeared again.

Jed and Kit discussed how she had fucked him with the strap on; this time, Jed, revealed, he had brought a variety of props to facilitate all sorts of fucking. Emily and Kit and Jed entered into an animated discussion of dildos and strap ons of various makes. I really didn’t understand the mechanics of the toys; I’ve never used one. But I nodded, like it all made perfect sense to me.

And then Emma said something about a kind of virtual reality, about this fantasy of not watching but being nineteen year old girl in a shower, for instance. We all considered the possibilities.

“That’s hot,” I blurted out finally. “I mean, I’m straight and that turns me on.” I shifted a little on the couch.

“Wait,” said Adam, “You were showing a nice length of thigh there.” He reached out. “Can I? I have a consent fetish,” he added.

“No, that’s fine. I’m glad you have a consent fetish.” My body wasn’t being very welcoming to him, I realized. I mean, he was perfectly nice, but I wasn’t interested in getting it on with him. I tried to make my body language a little more welcoming.

“Wait,” echoed Kit after a minute. “You’re straight?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, as far as I know. I’ve never hooked up with a woman.”

Both Emma and Kit (and Jed and Adam) looked suitably impressed at the diversity of the populace on the couch: a straight girl!

Emma said, “So what would you do if...” she lightly stroked my arm.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean, I don’t want to offend anyone, so I’d probably go along with it.” I was kidding. I think.

“So we could just do anything and you wouldn’t protest?” Adam asked.

“Well... no... I mean...”

“So we could tie you up and you wouldn’t protest?” Kit asked. She had a calculating look in her eye.

“Or else I would run,” I amended, truthfully.

“You could always say, ‘No thanks, I’m just not comfortable,’” Emma pointed out.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.” Like I said, I think I was kidding. But I didn’t know.

Then Adam and Emma chimed in, saying how great it was that you could always say you weren’t comfortable, and nobody would think any the less of you, and, in fact, it made everyone closer. “Because you’re laughing at the moron who doesn’t feel comfortable,” I pointed out.

Then Jed appeared next to me. “I want to sit next to you,” he said. This was such a relief, to be next to someone I actively wanted to touch. I mean, Adam and Emily were very nice, and Kit was gorgeous, but it was Jed I was attracted to. He put an arm around me. Very slowly I ran my fingers down the length of his torso.

“You have a really light touch,” he said.

“Do you want it harder?” I always like to please.

“No, I like it.” I leaned in a bit, to catch his scent. I put my mouth against the soft skin of his upper arm. “Ah,” he said, “You got my sweet spot.” He slid his fingers along my arm.

“Me, too,” I said. Having my upper arms touched makes me feel what Nicole Kidman in the film Flirting calls “shivery delicious,” which about sums it up perfectly.

We started to kiss. I very, very rarely go to a party and manage to hook up with the guy I have my eye on. Score! I wrapped my mouth around his.

We broke apart. The layout of bodies had shifted and now Kit, not Emily, was sitting next to me. “I asked her here,” said Jed. “Is that OK?”

“Well, she’s your girlfriend,” I said. “So, I would think so!”

“Oh, we’re not dating anymore,” Kit offered.

“We just have sex sometimes,” Jed added, and leaned forward to kiss her.

She giggled: “Sometimes, we’re closer than others.”

“Should we go into one of the bedrooms?” someone asked.

“I think so,” piped up a man whose name I hadn’t gotten. He’d been sitting on the coffee table, watching us.

So we all trooped down the hall. Jefferson’s room was a mash of people. The room was dark and everyone was mostly or totally naked. The word writhing came to mind. I had never seen anything like this in real life.

I had to pee. While I was waiting for the bathroom a girl from the bedroom looked at me, just standing there, and laughed to see me loitering in the hall. “I’m just waiting for the bathroom,” I explained, anxious not to seem as awkward as I felt.

When I got to the bedroom everyone was standing very close together, as in a football huddle. A woman on the bed was moaning. The room was dark but for a few candles and I couldn’t see very much. I joined the huddle near the bed. Everyone was in various stages of undress, except me, so I took off my shirt. Jed was standing opposite me, and without further ado, we started to kiss. I tugged off my tights, and then my skirt. He pushed me back towards the bed, which had just been partially vacated by the moaning girl and her partner.

“Ah!” I cried. The bed felt ... damp.

I turned around to look. There was the wet spot the size of a basketball on the dark red sheets. “Oh, my God!” I said. Gah!

“Hold on,” said Jed. He slid a pillow across the damp patch and slung me onto my back; much better. He leaned over me and I wrapped my legs around him.

Meanwhile a hand slunk around to my crotch; I turned to see Adam’s face behind me. He rubbed at my groin. Could I ignore him politely?

“Do you want to go down on me?” Jed asked after a few minutes of enthusiastic kissing.

“That means you want me to go down on you,” I said, grinning. “OK.” And I bent down and positioned my mouth around this stranger’s dick, and gave him a nice, long lick.

It felt not at all weird to be sucking a stranger’s cock in a room full of naked bodies. It was just sort of fun. “Ahhh!” said Jed. “God! That’s good.”

I beamed at him. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate it.” Then I went back to work, and concentrated on taking in as much of him as I could. I gagged a bit.

Jed seemed really excited and pleased, which thrilled me. He stood up on the floor and I slid off the bed and I got on my knees in front of him. I was really enjoying myself now. “Can I fuck you?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Well, yeah,” I said. “But...” I paused. “Do you think we could do this in private? I don’t think I can bring myself to fuck in front of an audience just yet.”

“Yeah, sure!” Jed raced out of the room; I followed. The other bedroom was likewise occupied; I could see a couple crunched together on a twin bed; she was moaning.

Jefferson appeared. “Hi!” He beamed at us.

“She wants someplace private,” Jed explained. He picked me up and wrapped my legs around his waist. “You’re really hot,” he said.

I mean, it doesn’t take a lot to get me into bed. Just tell me I’m hot. That ought to do it.

Jefferson nuzzled up close to me. “That bed’s free,” he offered-- the faceless couple had disappeared.

“Ah,” I said. There were other people in the second bedroom.

“Can I take a rain check?” asked Jed. “Were not going to find a place.”

“Sure,” I said. Had I engineered this to maximize the possibility of seeing him again? Or was I really nonplussed at the thought of fucking in front of a group? Granted, I would hardly be the only person in that situation, but come on! It was my first orgy. I could take my time, couldn’t I?

We went back into the bedroom, and soon Jed was swallowed up by the group of bodies. I sipped my whiskey. Hot!Mark joined me. “Hi!” I said. Or maybe there was a little more discussion, but then, soon enough, we were making out. Wow.

“Hi Lily!” Jefferson shouted, interrupting the murmur of bodies. “Having fun?” He rubbed up close to me. “Shuddup,” I muttered, giggling. I shoved him back onto the bed. He pushed me back up. Again, I was hoisted up and my legs were once again wrapped around a torso (Hot!Mark’s) while Jefferson held me up from behind.

I kissed Hot!Mark, then Jefferson, then watched as Jefferson and Hot!Mark made out. That was actually very!Hot.

“I’d really like to go down on you,” Hot!Mark said when Jefferson had been dragged off again. I was still wearing my underwear. Thank God I shaved my legs. I almost hadn’t even bothered, so sure I was not going to pull.

“I just went on the pill again, and I’m having spotting,” I explained. The fact was, I’d been wearing a panty liner all day, which is just remarkably unsexy. I’d taken it out when I’d gone to the bathroom, but if I took off my underwear it might show evidence of bleeding. Urgh. And I didn’t want Hot!Mark to slip his tongue into me and grimace at the taste.

“OK,” he said, sounding disappointed. I looked down. Fuck it: I slid onto my knees and took his dick in my mouth. Just for a bit. I was surprising myself this evening, that was for sure.

Behind us, the bed was crowded with bodies. One woman (I wasn’t sure who) was on her knees, bring fucked from behind from a man who pumped her and slapped her ass. She groaned in time to his hand. She was surrounded by people. As she was being fucked Adam intoned: “Now, now,” as though urging her to come. And there was Jefferson, slipping his dick into her mouth. A plump girl in a bustier and thigh highs was stroking a breast. Jefferson leaned over and took her face in his hands, kissing her. I swallowed.

“Want to go into the other room?” asked Hot!Mark.

Actually I wanted to ogle a little more, but, nodding, I followed him into the living room. Which was occupied by a couple fucking on the couch. I covered my lips with my fingers and tiptoed into the kitchen, where no one was having sex at all.

“Wow,” I said. I sipped more of my whiskey and blinked at Hot!Mark. “I’ve never actually given two blow jobs in the space of twenty minutes before.”

HotMark! smiled modestly: “I have,” he said. I giggled. “Your underwear is cute,” he added, stroking the waistband.

I was wearing printed cotton bikinis. “Thanks. So.” I paused. “What do you do?” We talked a bit about our work, before being joined by Jefferson and Cody, who, I gathered, had been the girl on the couch. Naked, she was gorgeous, and she had red scars criss-crossing a patch of pale skin near her waist. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off those markings, that proud evidence of being fucked and whipped or caned or whatever. Cody nuzzled Jefferson. Politely, I looked away.

I glanced at my watch. It was already 11:30; I had told Marc I’d be at his place around 11:00. I wasn’t having sex tonight, and I’d managed to hook up with the two guys I found most attractive, without a great deal of effort on my part! Oh, how I loved Jefferson for this.

Hot!Mark helped me search for my clothes, and when I was finally dressed he asked if I would take his number.

“Let me give you my email,” I said, because I loathe talking on the phone. “I won’t call, I’m awful on the phone.”

So I tried to write down my email address with a marker on a paper towel. Jed entered the kitchen. “Let me give you my email address,” I said to him, too. The ink was bleeding on the towel; this was ridiculous. At last Hot!Mark tore off a strip of paper from his card, and I found a scrap of paper for Jed. “Well,” I said, “I enjoyed going down on you both.”

Christ. I just say the dumbest things. It’s like I think, What would be the stupidest thing I could say?, and then, because it strikes me as funny, I go ahead and say it. “OK, that was a dumb thing to say,” I added after a moment. ”I’m going now.”

On that note, I raced out the door. I enjoyed going down on you both! Christ!