Monday, 23 May 2011

Penthouse

Daniel and his wife are happily married. They don't have sex. She's just not interested. Weekends are family time but from Monday to Friday he can do what he wants. So what Daniel does of a Friday night is this: he hires out a penthouse suite at a central London hotel and recruits a mixture of friends, acquaintances and internet swingers to come and play. Having provided the venue he's sure to get some. Daniel is a horny devil. He's a friendly guy too, and interesting, but you get the feeling that he would fuck a hole in the wall if someone would just stick some lube around it.

Virgil and I get an invitation to one of these parties in honour of our playmate Lou. It was her birthday recently and she has chosen both the guests and the theme, which is "Posh Sluts". I dress accordingly in a vintage dress and Dior hat. The slut bit is underneath - black and pink satin bra, knickers, suspender belt and stockings.

We know the guestlist in advance and to be honest it's a bit uninspiring. I see names of people I don't want to play with, some unknowns, a few people I've already played with and don't want to do again. I say: "I could always shag Al. At least I know that I'd like to do that," and T tells me off for being so awful. He's excited to meet Lou's artist friend, whose work he admires.

The party has only just started when we arrive. Daniel has already changed into a black latex shorts suit and one woman is being licked out on a coffee table, but most guests are still standing around chatting. Al appears to be passed out on a bed in the corner wearing just a pair of jeans. Lou says he came straight from work. Al finally gets up and comes to say hello but he looks stoned and he has atrocious BO. I feel irrationally cross with him.

Ho hum. I'm at a sexy party but I don't feel sexy. I don't get off on the corporate feel of the place. It's too bright and the air conditioning too strong. I spend the next hour dodging men. One of them is Sebastian. He's wearing a white polo neck jumper under a black jacket and it makes me think of the Milk Tray man who delivered nighttime chocolate to ladies in need. I talk to Daniel but make it clear that I'm not going to play with him. I don't think he minds - there are a dozen other women to play with.

Virgil's definitely more into it. He's pleased to find out that the artist is a sexy boy to his liking and they're flirting. He also goes off to a sofa with one of the girls and I watch him going down on her from the corner of my eye. I say to Al: "Don't be offended, Al, but you really need to take a shower. I can smell you!" and he says: "Oh no, I already did!" He's woken up now, and I forgive him.

There are always comparisons to be drawn at sex parties. Who's shaved, trimmed or hairy. Who's big and who's small. Virgil is a skinny waif and he can look frankly adolescent compared with many of the other men. I still find him more attractive than the hairy, barrel-chested blokes with big, shaved cocks. I wonder if I am developing a taste for younger men.

The upshot of it is: I play with Al. He's more into it this time as we know each other better. That's Al's hook, I think: getting to know him. In turn I'm more honest and we have a proper conversation. I think I'm going to invite Lou and Al to play again. I play a bit with Virgil but it's getting late... then the whole thing degenerates into a singsong as someone has bought a ukelele. How many sex parties end in singsongs, I wonder? We leave.

No comments:

Post a Comment