Give group sex a spin

Anon 28 May 2018

There are lots of different ways of de-stressing over Easter Term: from punting with friends, to cups of tea or Pimms in one of the many secret gardens. There’s an endless list of quintessentially Cambridge things to do — croquet, Caesarian Sunday, crosswords in the evening in your college bar. For me, however, the ultimate de-stresser isn’t cricket or colouring, but sex.

I’d been chatting to a guy I met on Grindr for a week or so when he told me about the parties his friend occasionally hosts. When I say ‘parties’, I don’t really mean ‘parties’ in the red cup, beer pong, roll-your-eyes-at-a-scummy-drinking-soc-member party, but a sex party, a full on 40-people-and-more orgy. I was intrigued. I’ve always been one for trying new things and, having dabbled in group sex before, I wanted to see what the real deal was like, to see if this was the party to end all parties, or just a hot and sticky mess…or both. I asked if I could get an invite and, sure enough, I did.

Gay sex parties have got a bad name for themselves in recent years thanks to ‘chemsex’ (sex when high on drugs, from MDMA to heroin); and it’s true that substance abuse and unsafe-sex is a huge problem in the gay community, so, initially, I was wary.  The host, however, had a zero drugs policy and a no barebacking rule. So far, so good.

I was certainly nervous and made sure to go along with the guy who had introduced me to the host. After the door was opened to us, I didn’t know where to look. It was pretty overwhelming, to say the least. While some guys just sat and chattered to each other in the nude — catching up, it seemed — someone was getting have sex in the kitchen, while some second-rate porn jerked on the TV. Men spilled out over the house: all shapes, sizes and ages. It was a struggle to keep eye contact with the person you were talking to.

On arrival, we stripped: even if you didn’t want to partake in the ‘fun’, you had to be naked. I felt incredibly vulnerable, with eyes around the room calculating the curve of my butt cheeks, wondering whether I’m a top or a bottom. I don’t mean to say I was the centre of attention, but without the layer of clothing to cover me I felt myself almost shrivel up, especially when someone checked me out while he had a dick in his mouth.

But it was also liberating.  Standing and having a conversation with anyone in the nude was immensely freeing — although insanely awkward, at first. Inevitably, though, things got steamier, and sex rippled its waves around the rooms, throughout the house. I don’t think I’d ever experienced knee pain quite so bad until then — I almost cringe at the number of cocks I sucked.

It was definitely a fun experience, seeing so many different types of men all enjoying and pleasing other men’s bodies with such unflinching honesty and frankness; and I’m sure I’d do it again. But when I got home I realised I hadn’t even cum, not because the sex was bad — it wasn’t — but because I had always been looking around for someone better, the next person I could suck or be sucked by. I don’t want to turn into a Carrie Bradshaw parody here, but I couldn’t help but compare that feeling to the feeling a lot of us get when using things like dating and hook-up apps. You get sucked into (pun intended) a cycle of meaningless sex, always searching for an orgasm better than the last, and the best one to be had with minimal effort and commitment required.  Sex is a great de-stresser, but it is also an excellent stresser. Like a lot of people, I love to think I can separate sex from emotion, but it’s a lot harder than it seems. So when having sex this Easter Term, endeavour to keep work and play separate, to try new things, but not to get trapped into thinking about the next one while the first one hasn’t even come yet.