“Did you witness the whole-house o#gy?” my friend texts me the day after the s#x party. “In every room in the house, people were screwing.” Unfortunately I missed it, despite having stayed until 2:30 A.M. After eight hours, I thought I’d seen it all, including a man in a tuxedo lashed to a column while being ch#ked out as a woman str#ked his p#nis; a woman wearing a black-bob wig and a strap-on d#ldo having s#x with a nearly identical-looking woman in a black-bob wig; a man in a leather bunny mask and velvet slippers sp#nking a t#pless woman b#und by Japanese sh#bari rope; and a lot of marathon f#cking. What I did not observe was a full-blown, believable org#sm. Call me old-fashioned.
But not that old-fashioned. In my life I’ve witnessed a couple of mén#ges à tro#s, various X r#ted bachelor-party sh#nan#gans and a basement b#ndage party, yet I hadn’t exactly sought out public group s#x. Then my friend Sean invited me to a black-tie s#x party in Beverly Hills. (Some names in this article have been changed to protect the privacy of the sources.) Sean said participation wasn’t mandatory. I said what the hell.
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