By Mezmerelda

It had been advertised as a house. This was not a lie since it was a house, but it was really just an apartment of a house. The event had been listed as an “All Gender Play Party”, was in the middle of the week and went from 7:30 until midnight. I did not know what I was getting myself into, and this time could not bring a friend since the event was sold out, but since I promised I was just an observer and writer she granted me a place, she being one lovely “Monique Darling”. The name fits her. A day before the event I was getting nervous. After all, even though I write erotica, this was my first solo event that was in someone’s house. “What the fuck am I thinking?” was my thought that Tuesday night. The ad did foretell that there would probably be nudity and sex, and the “all gender” piece of it made me think I could possibly watch/see two men having sex and I just was not sure I could do that without making some kind of stupid face. I have no problem with gay people, even enjoy watching women make out, but I have an innate fear (I think) of seeing one male penetrate another. That was even difficult to write! Anyway, Tuesday night was a late revelation that made me look up this Monique Darling to see just how legitimate she was, if there had been other events, etcetera, so that I would not find myself locked up in someone’s dungeon forever.

What a great discovery.  Monique’s business is Juicy Enlightenment, which, along with her handsome partner Peter Petersen and others, has hosted over 800 global, similar events over the past 5 years. There were pictures of her on the website and her smile is beautiful. It radiated warmth and sincere kindness. I know smiling faces can hide deep, dark awfulness, but if you check the pictures yourself you will see what I mean and why I was put to ease immediately. I then looked at the profiles of most of the people attending, making sure it was not all male, etc., and I was satisfied with all my research. “Safe to Go” I told myself.

Wednesday night. I found the house in a pretty neighborhood in an upscale town, and I knocked on the door. I was greeted by Monique herself with the warm smile I was expecting and recognition when I told her my name. Several people arrived at the same time and we were all asked to take off our shoes. Once that was done we went upstairs to the apartment, which was set for the event. There were thin mattresses all over the floors and pillows strewn against the walls with only minimal floor space for walking. Chiffon drapes hung from various points in all the rooms, creating a private, bedroomy feel. Candles were lit, and soft music played. Monique told me I had a ½ hour before “opening circle” and if I wanted I could browse through people, ask them questions, just do my thing, which I am still in the process of understanding myself. I had a total of three mini-interviews, two of which are topics in and of themselves (teaser – masochism/submissive  and orgasmic meditation). I introduced myself in each case as a writer and made my usual anonymity promises. The candid nature of what I was told still surprises me. The thing is, since you are already with a group of people of similar minds, the need to get to know someone before sharing such personal information is just not there. You know everyone is there for the same thing, so it is not conceived as weird to anyone. And it isn’t weird, it’s just still a hidden part of society and kinksters are thought of as just that. Odder tastes in sexual behavior are deemed by the vast majority (at least in this country) as unnatural, when in most cases it is quite the opposite. It’s just different.

By the time opening circle started there were at least (40) people in the apartment. It was crowded, possibly a health hazard, but it was peaceful and people were ready to experience. Monique talked about what would happen, a gentleman came forward and played an extremely beautiful piece many of you have heard of but may have not actually heard (Hare Krishna) on a harmonium (see below) while many of the group sang and hummed along, me included. I won’t lie and say it did not remind me of hippy-dom, but it also reminded me why that era once was and now there were some of us hiding in this apartment singing, appreciating and waiting for the next good things.  It was moving.

Peter gave a 10 minute session on his discipline, Qigong, and this helped relax us and made me curious about learning more. Then it was time for us to get to know each other a little and loosen up.  Games for helping us along were played as well as the presentation of the rules. Rules were obvious: Use protection and respect a “no” answer if that’s what you get. To everyone else the request was that you know your answer in advance. “Don’t be afraid to ask for whatever you want, that’s what we’re here for, and don’t be insulted if you are turned away, but ask. I’ve seen everything. If you want to lie in the middle of the floor and ask for five people to come touch you all over then do it. If you ask, there is a very good chance you will get what you want”. She went on to say that voyeurism was also appreciated, that she in fact had attended (17) such parties before ever participating.

We played one of the games. Like I said, it was tight. I was sitting on the mattress laden floor and was touching several people with my legs because that’s how close we were. We were asked to make groups of the nearest 6-7 people and we did. A highly tattooed couple on my left side chimed in first, the husband intoxicated, but had misunderstood the rules of the game. The rules had been: Think in advance. When you walk out tonight after this experience, what is the “mildest” thing you would have liked to experience and what is the “wildest”? His wife admitted the mildest would be being watched by several or many while she sucked off her husband. The wildest? “Being fucked by 7 guys in front of everyone on an airplane”. I gently cleared my throat to remind these inky lovelies that it had to be something that could actually happen that night and we were not in fact on a plane. A couple next to me, Wanda and Michael*, made up of a beautiful heavy-set black woman and an older business-suited white man told us what they wanted, and it was reasonable, calm and lovely. Their mildest action would be the two of them just cuddling and watching everyone else enjoy themselves. Their wildest would be her going down on him as others watched.

Games ended. Sexy music got louder. Encouragement was made, and I took my seat on the sidelines and averted my gaze. I was very conscious that most people did not know I was a writer, and men walked around and I can’t know they looked at me, but as a chick I do know. Not looking at a person is a very good way to avoid the question “Ya wanna fuck?” or “Wanna go make out?” And only my friend Andar from an earlier interview came back to me, knowing I was a writer, and asked if I wanted to go somewhere to “touch/feel/kiss”. Sweet man, and receptive to my “no, sorry, only observing tonight”.

After that I watched, wandering from room to room to see who was participating in which sexual act. I had asked Monique what people would do if they wanted to fool around more privately. “Well then they wouldn’t be here” She had said. Part of the definition of these get-togethers is exhibitionism. Very soon this was confirmed. In the main area, another racially mixed pair, initially strangers, began to slowly take off each other’s clothing. An older black gentleman in a corner held up the back of his robe as a shield to hide the two white women who were on the other side. Sometimes the women made out, and sometimes one of them sucked his cock. A robe can’t hide everything.  I mention race only because it is important to define just how diverse and accepting this group obviously was.

The other  couple that had been taking off clothing were massaging each other, the man doing most of the work, the woman moaning. Another man sat up against the wall watching them, and then began to take care of himself.

I walked to the bathroom, barely being able to navigate the people on the way there. People wandered outside sometimes to have a cigarette, chat, enjoy fresh air. I briefly thought about the downstairs neighbors and what they thought about everything they saw and heard. Next to the bathroom was a dimly lit bedroom in which I noted my acquaintances Wanda and Michael were in the middle of reaching their “wildest” moment and then some, and that made me smile. Three men stood around them, each with their arms folded in front of them and each watching very intently. On my way back to the main room I stopped in the kitchen and had some strawberries. There was fresh fruit, cheeses, and one amazing looking peanut-brittle cheesecake.

By the time I did get back, the naked couple was well on their way to the inevitable. His back was to me, but he was putting on a rubber. And then they fucked. Simple as that. I was one of maybe fifteen people who were in the room, some watching, some involved in their own situations and levels. It was perfectly natural, almost to the extent it became less erotic because it was so natural. But that is in this writer’s head. I am sure this couple was swimming in something very erotic, mesmerized by their own movements, penetration and of course the knowledge they were being watched.

The 30-ish woman who resided there and who flitted around in a friendly manner, had taken off all her clothes and was talking to Monique and Peter. A very handsome man took up with a young girl. A young woman who had a rainbow wig on and tight clothing with furry socks was being petted/caressed by three men. She later walked up to the man who had been stroking himself, introduced herself and started kissing him.

What I have told you all happened before 9:30 since that is when I decided I could leave. Had it been a weekend night I might have stayed ‘til the end. This had been a gathering of peaceful, mostly intellectual, curious and sensual people looking to experience sex with like-minded people, or at least watch people having that kind of fun. The warmth and immediate friendship conveyed was palpable, and respect for all was clear. Monique was sitting next to Peter and when I went to thank her and say good-bye she asked for a kiss, so of course I obliged. This reporter most definitely walked out of there having attained her stated “mild” from the earlier game.

 

*Only Monique and Peter Petersen are identified by their real names.