Love + Sex, Love, Life Stories

I went to a wild sex party — & here’s what happened

Sex parties aren’t just for the elite. I should know, I attended one.

There’s this notion that sex parties are for those who can afford Agent Provocateur and ounces of cocaine.

At a party in Dubai, I met a girl who claimed that she had been to a sex party with the cast of “Made in Chelsea”. She told us of the sexy lingerie, the games, the drugs…but never once told us if it was fun.

I don’t think she realized how posey the whole thing sounded. 

That conversation reminded me of this sex party I had attended the year before – not that that’s something I’d EVER forget. I couldn’t believe how pretentious and glamorous it sounded in comparison to the one I stumbled upon that fateful night.

Does everyone think sex parties are an Anne Summers-style fete?

My friend invited a mate and me to an event on Ticketmaster called ‘Hysterical Literature’. At the time, none of us knew it was a sex party. In fact, I thought it was a Waterstone’s event. But when we were met with a 40-year-old man with a feather headdress and zebra hot pants at the door, it was clear.

After walking past the man and realizing we were severely underdressed (or overdressed), we came to a hallway bathed in soft lighting.

Here’s what I saw: Baby oil EVERYWHERE, lube dotted about, condoms scattered around like sweets, a stash on the toilet cistern in case the mood suddenly hit mid bathroom break. 

I sat on the floor of the living room surrounded by 20 people, perched on sofas and laps. There was lots of excited chatter. The host, Eyal, a bald man in gold tight leggings and a satin gown, entered and everyone cheered –  a peculiar pseudo god figure. He shushed the room by holding up his index finger to his mouth and smiled. He opened his arms like Jesus to welcome us. I felt like I was at a family reunion, or maybe even a cult meeting. My stomach was doing flips, but I was grinning like a maniac. What was going to happen?

Eyal instructed us on the importance of consent; he was there to ensure that everyone felt comfortable. If he saw anyone doing anything that made anyone feel uncomfortable he would kick them out.

He rattled through the instructions on safe sex and the importance of respecting the house and I felt like I was in a room of attentive school children rather than scantily clad adults with penchants for feathers. It was certainly new. 

And then the game began. It was an ice-breaking game of the eponymous ‘Hysterical Literature.’

 After, we split up into two groups a la a school disco. Young people gathered in the kitchen and older people everywhere else. There was no pressure to do anything sexual. I chatted to a screenwriter for a good half an hour whilst meters away a married nude couple banged over a kitchen counter.

The highlight of the evening was the professional spanker. She had a stern face and bright red lipstick. At around 1 am, she strode into the kitchen and demanded one of us tried a professional spanking. I thought, well, why come to Rome and not try the pizza?

She led me back into the living room and I was told to lie down on the floor. She gave me a 20-minute session, complete with the ‘yes miss,’ and ‘no miss.’ It struck me that some people would pay her hundreds for this.

What started out as amusing got alarmingly sexual and when my friends came in to laugh at the spectacle, it only took 10 minutes for me to ban them from the room. 

I guess I would say that overall, the evening, which lasted from 9 pm till about 3 am, was funny but not exactly erotic.

For many of the older guests, it was a lustful night. I got to witness my mate having sex in the exact spot where I got spanked. Not erotic at all. But it did get me laughing for the rest of the night. 

Afterward, we trudged towards a kebab shop to get ourselves some chips. I felt completely devoid of energy, like a wanderer who had just spent 40 years in Narnia.

To the rest of the world, nothing had changed.

The physical exhaustion combined with the mental fatigue of handling such a new experience had quite literally ‘whipped’ it out of me. 

I’d never been to anything quite like it before and haven’t been since. Though the environment felt safer than many regular nightclubs due to the emphasis put on respect, it was draining as hell.

Chelsea may boast elitist, drug-fueled, and lingerie-clad sex parties, but I promise you can find a better environment to try one out. With consent and respect at the forefront, sex parties can be a lot more enjoyable than the movies would have you believe.