After being driven away from the apps, Iād given IRL pick ups a solid go. Was excited for a wedding which then had no singles, another wedding had so few I ended up with the photographer but a failure to launch left me just as frustrated as ever. Tried speed dating - briefly DMād a match only to have him disappear but watch my stories until the end of time.
So when I was contacted about a swingers and singles 1:1 party I figured fuck it, Iām overdue to dip my toe back in the lifestyle.
Get buzzed into a swanky 2 bedroom flat, everyone is still fully clothed. Iām greeted by the host, who, much like the rest of the male portion of 30-40 people at the party, I can best describe as Euro Chad? Not what Iād call my type, but happy to see fit people who are also on the younger side. Not that that's hard considering how ancient Iām getting. I pour myself a drink and quickly befriend two other chicks that had also come on their own. Within 10 minutes Iām down to one as girl #1 has disappeared with a boy. My new friend Sandy has never been to a party like this and is a little nervous so I give the speech on not worrying, not having to do anything if she doesn't want to etc etc and get to people watching and meeting people as they come in or grab drinks. At some point a pale long haired off brand version of 80s Chris Cornell sidles up to me. Heās Russian, works in IT, sings in a metal band and his name is Vlad, because of course it is (*actually!). He unironically makes me watch his music video on his phone and settles into a holding pattern beside me rather than the flitting about the room checking out the talent that is the usual routine at parties such as these. Iām lazy and havenāt seen anyone to tempt away my time so I hang out with Vlad and Sandy and try to avoid blurting out the vampire puns popping into my head.
Half the party is half dressed, the bedrooms now have multiple occupants. Someone is getting a blow job outside the bathroom, there's a stand up threesome up against the kitchen counter and Iām intermittently making out with my dark haired shadow. Sandy has gotten braver (and drunker) and goes on little forays to watch the action and then returns to report to me what sheās seen, often literally sticking her head in between the two of us snogging which I find hilarious. At least sheās not shy anymore.
āHey remember Jen from before? Sheās getting double teamed in the south bedroom now!ā
āThanks Sandy, Iām glad you're enjoying yourself.ā
Each time she returns sheās wearing less clothing and in solidarity I doff my dress. Vlad remains fully dressed.
Most of the party is naked or in lingerie. I feel like I should be making more effort so move our chat and make out into the living room. Sandy ventures to the patio and returns stoned, she finds this thrilling. I briefly peer into the bedrooms and they are BUSY. Several couples are in assorted states of coitus on the couch beside us and I'm beginning to think Vlad needs to up his rather vanilla game or Iām going to have to do some shopping.
After more PG rated making out (although some occasional bites which Iām sure will be turning purple in a day or two, he wants my blood) while surrounded by fucking (pretty much everyone is screwing on every surface in the flat at this point) my Russian counterpart asks if Iād like to get out of there. I am easily won over by the idea of sex in the comfort and privacy of my own home - I am obviously less young and fun than I used to be. As we gather our things to go, I look back and see Sandy getting fingered on the couch. This warms my heart.
Iāve made Negroniās, we watched yet another of his bandās music videos on Youtube (a metal cover of a Kiss song⦠quaint), put on surprise surprise a 90s grunge mix on spotify and at this point Iāve listened to all of Vladās hopes and dreams and possibly whatever is on his vision board. Apparently this guy went to a sex party to get free talk therapy? I hopped on his lap in hopes of being inspiring, to which he actually stopped me kissing him so he could keep talking about Arnold Schwarzeneggerās journey to success when he moved to america. It would seem Iāve ended up with Vlad not the Impaler am I right? EH? I remove my dress in a single motion. Still nothing from the Russian.
I give up and move things to bed, Im pooped. HE KEEPS TALKING. I tell him I need sleep and suddenly he gets handsy after 5 hours of PG foreplay. āNope sorry Iām going to sleep, but happy to do this in the morning.ā He asks if its okay to wake me up for sex. āSure, thats always a good way to start the day.ā
My king size bed goes to waste as he clings to me like a backpack all night. I guess his sire failed to hug him enough when tucking him into his coffin at night. He tells me he likes the way my skin smells.
His alarm goes off. This is earlier than I anticipated when agreeing to this but also its been months and it might just seal up down there so fuck it, literally. I don't even bother cracking a curtain and figured I should (finally) fuck this sinewy pasty character in his native darkness. Half a session of mid tier lazy morning sex commences before he declares heās still drunk and will need a break before finishing. So glad I woke up for this. But then he gave decent head so I was less upset and fell back asleep.
Wake up again, ask him if heās supposed to be somewhere since he set that alarm. Oh he has rehearsal at 12. THEN WHY DID YOU SET AN ALARM FOR 8. My head hurts too much for any of this or more of his talking so I get up and make coffees. I plonk myself on the couch and make extremely closed off texting on my phone motions and he cozies up to me and kisses my neck repeatedly, this reminds me of how sore my bite marks are and after more talking and more attempts at getting handsy I tell him I have to kick him out, Iām too hungover to deal with him.
Freedom. I order a McMuffin and head to my patio to gingerly put my hand in the sun and see if it burns. I check my teeth for fangs.
3/5 mostly for Sandy's journey, what a legend