second sex party

Thank goodness, we attended our second sex party.  This time felt different because we brought our housemate friend.  Also it felt different because it wasn’t shocking, new, and intense.

the first time

The first time was such a big deal, my mind was blown.  I was overwhelmed.  I’d never done anything like that, and I needed it.  I crave space with different norms, and I need to learn.

Sexuality is such a beautiful mystery.  I felt excited and sucked up a lot of information.  It was so fun, I was high for a day afterward.

Then as the days passed, I felt less happy about the experience.  I realized I didn’t like some of the vibes, like from older cis white guys beating lady-appearing people.  I wished for an all queer sex party with more creativity–less reenactment of typical everyday violence.

energy

Maybe too much of others’ energy got on me.  Yes, the feelings around sex are so intense: powerful energy was flying around.

I vowed that next sex party, I would shield well before going in.  And I recognized that I might need some serious spiritual cleansing afterward.  (More about that later.)

Being in groups of people is always hard for me, but these kinksters doing this intense connecting with pain and dom / sub dynamics, even more so.  I saw public displays of affection, heard people howling in pain, heard sudden loud whipping and flogging sounds, and noticed exposed breasts and genitals.  A mall crowd or sports game can leave me with a residue–I don’t go to malls these days or sports games, partly for that reason.  Also the noise.  My sensory sensitivity and social differences mean some activities are too much.

My first sex party changed me.  It was a risk, to expose myself to the sexualities of strangers and all the intensity that comes with that.  Sex is hot, healing, and important.  But it’s also where a lot of people store trauma, and much harm can happen in those multi-vulnerable places.

I was glad I took the risk.  I like the quote, “To get something you never had, do something you never did.”

second sex party

This second sex party was more regular fun–neutral-positive.  It was still a big deal, but not derailing.  I had a significant reaction that didn’t change much over time.  I’m grateful for learning.

Our second time was to observe also.  That’s why I thought it would be ok to bring my much younger housemate.  I wasn’t at the party to play–I was there to feel it out.  Then my third sex party, I’ll ask my spouse to hit me in the flogging area.

It might embarrass me, for the young housemate to see me aroused, enjoying pain play and sexual pleasure.  If we talked about it beforehand and got consent, it could be fine.  But would our friendship change in a way that would be confusing?

That’s a piece I don’t comprehend yet–being observed.  Feels ok to be observed by strangers, but what about friends?  There are many reasons for a sex party, and one is to make friends.  Probably a lot of the party players do know each other.

I’d like to talk to bdsm friends who attend sex parties about how it feels to them, being seen in scene by friends, and how those boundaries work.  Being witnessed by ex-es, crushes, partner’s ex-es, partner’s partners, and other potentially stressful relationship role folks might be even more challenging.

questions

Is being observed being involved?  I wonder that a lot.  When someone is hitting another person in the big barn, I’m fascinated, but I might only half-glance at what they’re doing.

Is it ok to stare?  How deeply do I want to observe it?  Maybe that’s their business.  What are we here for anyway?

Here are some questions that might pass through my mind, as I observe a scene.

• How do they feel?
• What is this act in the larger context of their relationship?
• Have they done this a hundred times?  Is this the first time?
• How am I supposed to react to this scene?
• How am I actually reacting?
• Who do I empathize with, in the scene?
• Would I like to do an activity like this?
• Is this happily consensual?
• How is this act contributing to the lives of these people?
• Why do we want these things at all?
• What needs are being met for the participants and the observers?
• How does doing this act in semi-public change the feel or scope?

All these questions might flit through my mind.  But mostly the sex party is full of activity, and I’m trying not to fixate on any one thing.  It’s almost like dissociating.  I’m turning off one piece of being human–the part of me that sees someone in pain and wants to ask, “Are you ok?”  I have to trust that the people doing the scene negotiated consent well, and they are ok.

Trust is so hard.  One of my challenges this lifetime in being social is realizing that most people are walking around fucking clueless and letting them mess up their lives over and over again.  So many ways I could step in and help, but most people don’t want feedback.

in group out group

I always feel like an outsider.  I told my spouse that the second sex party made me ponder who’s in the in group, and how that happens.  The cool kids know each other, have been to countless parties together, and have power in that way.  They know what to do.

My spouse had a different opinion.  He said that actually I am a cool kid, I’m on fetlife, and I’m relating at the party in a skilled, appropriate way that meets my social needs.  And to know about the party at all shows some degree of in group belonging.

Wow, maybe he’s right.  He said the sex parties he went to before in San Francisco were different from these, much more darkly spooky, more penetration, and cuddle piles.  My spouse says those sex parties were announced more publicly.

shielding

I forgot to energetically shield before the party.  And I wanted to pray in the car on the way there, asking Mother God to bless our time.

Suddenly on the balcony, I realized I forgot to pray.  My spouse and I were dancing up there, enjoying the view as we sat sometimes, and having bits of conversation.  Our dear housemate visited for moments, then would return to the main floor.  It felt good to touch base.

I decided to pray at the sex party, collared, on the balcony, and asked my spouse to witness my prayer and pray along.  Maybe, reader, you can do the same, praying back through time for the people at the sex part, praying for all of us.

prayer

Mother God, please bless these beautiful freaks.  Please bless our connecting, learning, feeling, power exchange, pain, pleasure, and love.  Please bless our consent.  May we tell the truth and negotiate fairly and skillfully, and may we be kind to one another.

Please bless the health of all the people at this party.  Please help us make good choices with germs, impact, and all forms of contact.

Thank you for our resources, that we can attend our second sex party and feel strong and curious enough to show up for learning.  We are so grateful we have a solid life to take risks in.  Thank you for motivating us as we try new things and show up to become the people we want to be.

home again

Home again, we entered our house a bit late, maybe 11pm.  A housemate was doing a security check with his flashlight at the windows, making sure they were locked.

I felt special, the three of us coming home from a strange party.  I spoke briefly in the kitchen with the young housemate who had joined us.

Felt like something important had happened.  I asked for a hug.  The hug was grounding.  I felt like a good queer elder because it was our housemate’s first sex party.

Wow, I’m glad it was a good experience and they had the solid couple that is me and my spouse to be chill and there for them.  Not that they needed us.  But it might have been better with us, to ease into it.

“I think your collar is beautiful,” they said.

I was touched that they praised my collar.  My heart filled with joy.

“Thank you,” I said.  I’d mentioned feeling insecure about its homemade-ness.