Fri 4 May 2007 In: True Stories View at Wayback View at NDHA
I'm a hardened slut, so the idea of being invited to an orgy is not far removed from being invited to a flatwarming or birthday drinks. In fact, I forget that (a) some people have not actually been to an orgy and that (b) some people actually don't like a good Bacchanalian frenzy. Shame. So, receiving an invitation via my internet dating account, I checked out the profile. Hot picture. Hot bod. I immediately accepted, thinking that it was worth checking out, even if the men were old and overweight and thus, just not my type. I could always leave. I had been reassured that the attendees were all athletic men but given the invitation came via a dating website, that could mean anything. Oddly, there's a $10 cover charge, but given the need for condoms and lubrication and possibly several boxes of laundry detergent for later, I'm not at all bothered. Besides, it's cheaper than a sauna, and sounds far more promising than those venues' usual fare. After a quick shave above and below and a few stiff drinks – the nerves weren't really about flopping my cock out in a crowded room, rather that I get there and find either a room of full of granddaddy bears or a strategically placed camera behind a pot plant, or heaven forbid, I have to talk – I headed to the venue, a private inner-city apartment. Arriving late, as ever, the orgy is well underway. There's a strange hush in the air, like a Scientology birth, as approximately 15 men, all naked, are fucking, sucking and kissing in a cramped apartment. The room is cast in the glow of a decidedly uninteresting eighties porn flick – even if there weren't 15 men stark naked and (mostly) hard stealing attention anyway. Side-stepping into the kitchen, I wonder about protocol, before deciding the best option is just to drop everything and run… straight into the throng. I discover later the expected turn-out was somewhat less than the multitude that arrived, so while condoms were on offer and used, there was a bit of awkwardness as fuckees asked each other to pass the condoms (as casually as asking for the salt at a family dinner, probably more so). Some cocks (that's a metaphor for rooster, mind) strut around proud and Alpha-masculine, immediately becoming less attractive for their self-centredness. There's no ‘I' in ‘orgy'. Otherwise it's a feast, and the men are indeed, mostly handsome, mostly buff or at least slim, and in a wide range of colours and heights. Sean Cody, eat your heart out. It's a fun night – threesomes, foursomes, fellatio-pashing, watching, or just going hard. Ahem. One threesome bifurcates itself into the next room and concludes loudly. There's much lip-smacking but the occasional effort to inject dirty talk into the room falls flat. Everybody has their mouths full and a couple of people circle awkwardly the action, so the atmosphere is not entirely relaxed, but generally, for a room full of complete strangers having sex, a fun time was had by all. It all ends abruptly. I was one of the last to come, and one of the last to come. Everybody finishes up, wipes themselves down, and leaves. A few linger in the kitchen for a drink; most leave without goodbyes, some seem almost amused at the whole affair, others ready to scarper anonymously into the night. I wonder how many girlfriends and boyfriends have no idea – but then, a lasting relationship is hardly likely to form from a fuckfest like this. The fun looks set to continue with another latecomer, but I have work tomorrow, and a book to read, and a hot chocolate and warm pyjamas waiting. I make my exit, dignity and clothes intact, somewhat sated, and thrilled this sort of thing happened here in Auckland. Kudos to the organisers. And there was no camera. Not that I know of, anyway, and if there was – lucky you. a GayNZ.com reader - 4th May 2007