I decided to go to the sex party after all. Decided that I was more curious than afraid.
In my mind it was an endless sea of copulating bodies, hungry passionate, people pulling me urgently towards them – me trying to decide if I should participate or not. The vision was vivid.
Decision made I went outside my house and called a cab.
At the end of a dead end street were a dozen cars parked deep. Zigzagging through the maze of vehicles I finally made it to a greeter - who turned out to be a lover, wearing a sarong of some kind. I’d had sex with him and his partner last year.
That itself had been a story. He had been so excited to have a threesome. I remember him yelling “This is livin!” when we were all starting to mess around. I thought it was a bit funny at the time. Also funny was how he’d run off to the bathroom and excused himself when I tried to suck on his balls – apparently I’d injured him and that put him out of the game pretty fast. (How was I to know?).
Anyway he said “Hi Dave!” and I said “Hi!” and gave him a hug and went past…
A cluster of indolent voices gathered around a coppery fire in front of the house. To one side was a large hot tub and to the other was a gazebo for smokers. Tables were laid out with heaping bowls of snacks and treats; perfect for those about to get high. People were dressed in sarongs. I worked around this crowd and went inside. My friend was wearing a pair of black tights. She was happy to see me and showed me around the space.
There was a quiet room, for people who wanted to step back from sexual activity. There was a dark room – where anything goes. Upstairs there was a sprung hardwood dance floor with a balcony and a big set of soft blankets laid out against a wall. A few couples were already curled up on them talking quietly and cuddling.
A rather cute DJ was djing music. I also said hi to the hosts. I’d already met them at Ecstatic dance.
Ecstatic dance, which had happened earlier (with many of the same friends) is worth mentioning. Often I like to go to places like Burning Man or raves because I often feel like I want to stretch and use my body and occupy space in a way that doesn’t always fit the confines of ordinary dance spaces and expectations. I like both confined dancing and open dancing – but I don’t like a kind of middle ground of conservative dancing that is hard to explain. I love Mosh-pits and drunken hoe-downs – where people are just fucking around and having fun – without stress or ego. I love pushing against other people and I like the tight sweaty confines of uninhibited dancing.
Most dancing isn’t like this; people are kind of conservative, they restrict themselves carefully to their own space and there’s a sense of inhibition I always find uncomfortable. Some of this perhaps is self-created, that if I was more uninhibited I’d encourage others to be more uninhibited.
At Ecstatic dance I had first felt cautious – I was in a room with a bunch of other people who were standing around and I was expected to dance and to do so freely and without inhibition and to just do my own thing and explore my own space. I’d first started quite slowly. When I dance I sometimes like to explore the different repetitive beats of the melody; sometimes working from left to right through primary baseline, other times going at a half-rate or dancing against a different sub rhythm other than the primary one.
This is what I’d call ordinary dancing; it is fun but it largely means keeping my feet on the ground and using my upper body. If I am really excited and the music is entangled, with a rich set of beats to play with then I often try to get my feet off the ground as much as my hands; I try to spend more time in the air than on the ground. I played around with both of those kinds of dancing. But what made Ecstatic dance so great was that I started to play with something I’d never done before – which would be out of place at an ordinary event. I put my legs far apart and I started playing with making huge sweeping gestures with my upper body; swinging down and low and then up high – like a form of yoga. I started to realize that dancing was a form of whole body sign-language. And I loved feeling the articulation of my shoulders; the rotator cuff and clavicles that had been injured in so many accidents – feeling them stretch – and I loved the sense of feeling the musculature of my upper body and exploring a new space of expression. Yoga and taekwondo and many of the sports I love are about this kind of stretching and body expression. Also at the dance there had been several other people who started playing with the same ideas. And some people were so shy and others so unconscious that it was sweet. At the very end of that event we’d had a closing circle where we discussed our bodies how we felt and the like. One man who was autistic talked in stumbling english about his social shyness and how it helped him feel like he was normal. Another man who had muscular dystrophy talked about his body issues as well. There were several people who had whole internal histories of scarring and complexity that occluded the light that was shining through their body; that it only came out in brief bursts and spikes and their inner spirit was fighting against their own psychic scar tissue. It had been all in all a lovely evening – probably hard to repeat – but wonderful. These people were in my mind tonight.
I went back out to the fire and I sat and talked to a couple of folks. One was a couple that was looking for a third, they were self proclaimed witches and they seemed pretty happy and nice. They talked about doing a lot of suspensions and other things slipped off their tongues like everyday conversation. One old man talked about how his dad had died and he’d taken his Mercedes to go to the funeral, had fallen asleep at the wheel and had run into a dump truck on the highway head on. And had broken his bones in 170 places and had spent years in therapy.
For a little while I stared into the fire – thinking back to the previous night. The previous night I had been restless the night before and unable to sleep so I had ended up at my favorite local bar.
That previous night had seemed to be a good place to meet people for some reason - the crowd is just right – quiet desultory conversation – chill folks dressed casually and nicely – just a cool little bar tucked in behind some homes.
This bar I’d ended up at the previous night had special memories, sweet and bittersweet. This of course was where my partner and I had picked up a lover and had taken him home and I thought back to that. We’d dragged him home rather abruptly and chatted for a bit - and it looked like things were going to end up nowhere but at the last minute I backed off and gave him a chance to be alone with my girlfriend. A few minutes of time to kiss and everybody got very excited. Hand in hand we went back down to the couch and we were told by my sweet girl to both take off our clothes. He’d been a perfect gentleman, excited and eager and he had such a nice hard dick. It was wonderful watching my partner play with him. We took turns – while he went down on her and then visa versa, and we just escalated; taking turns exploring his wonderful body. I remember entering my partner while she was playing with him and show she moaned that it was her favorite thing – to suck on a dick while being fucked from behind. I remember running upstairs and finding a condom and coming back down and grabbing that dick of his and being amazed by how big and hard it was and what a nice head he had on his penis – so enviable! And then rolling a condom over that thing and then watching him lift her up and being pulled into her absolutely dripping pussy. His endurance and staying power were amazing as well; he just wanted to fuck forever. That was really sweet – it was such a shame he didn’t stay the night!
In any case, just the previous night I’d been at the bar again – meeting a new friend there. She was a philosophy major and we didn’t drink that much but ended up outside chatting till 3 am and smoking. And then I stumbled home and crashed… I really really enjoyed the conversation that night; and just didn’t feel like pushing for something else. I didn’t feel like making the same gestures again, the little touches, the comments the conversations that often lead towards intimacy – though I know I could make these gestures – we were both perfectly happy. What was funny I suppose is that I’ve been feeling more alone more hungry for companionship, but at the same time feeling like I’ve been ripped apart, and just a bit too tender, to raw, to really want to be intimate with yet somebody else new – emotionally it felt like a bit too much of a reach. Part of me wanted to conquer mindlessly; somehow to remove threats - but what I wanted was a relationship, a partner, somebody who would be around the next day. Or at least I think that is what I wanted. It just seemed to me that my house was big and hollow and meaningless. It was all noise. It felt very primal; like I’d reached into my throat and pulled out my soul. A meditation.
Since the previous night had been so raw – I abstained this eve in some respects. I took on a role of chaperone, handing out condoms and helping people find the bathroom. The person in this role had to wear a funny lit up party hat – a way to stand out from the crowd. The family dog was roaming loose through the house – a big old golden retriever – and she desperately wanted to go into the dark room for some reason. Every so often there would be a squeal of surprise as somebody reached over and instead of finding flesh found fur – and then she’d be forcibly evicted – tail between her legs. I spent a good hour sitting with the dog, petting her, holding condoms, wearing the glowing party hat so that people could find me. Apparently as party chaperone one also gets scolded for failing to pickup and cleanup when opportunities present themselves. I eventually passed the party hat to some other unlucky soul and continued to wander.
After standing by the fire I went upstairs and hung out some more. There was a stripper party thing where you tried on different lingerie and the like. Yawn boring. One very cute girl with tats caught my eye for a while but I didn’t say hi. I felt like the party gender ratio was a bit imbalanced and I didn’t feel like being yet another man trying to hit on her – I hate hitting on women when it is a sausage fest.
By this point in the evening there was a big cuddle pile going on upstairs. My friend was somewhere in the pile – her partner for the evening was very conservative and cautious – he’d been quite nervous – and earlier in the night we’d mostly talked about programming and suchlike. And now he seemed quite comfortable. People were openly playing with each other and you could hear urgent moans from different corners of the space.
I went back downstairs and gave the dog some water, and gave her some attention so that she’d stay out of the dark room for a while longer at least. Then I grabbed my jacket and started walking. This place was deep in an obscure part of town. I walked 20 or thirty blocks up to a huge freeway. Then I couldn’t figure out how to get over the freeway so I walked in the deep ravine with big trees overhead and up and down through the scrub trying to figure out how to get across. Finally I found a bridge and took it over the highway and started walking towards the city proper. I tried calling a taxi but there were none available so I just kept walking.
The night was empty warm and cars flew past every so often.
As I walked and walked I thought about the Black Rock Desert and my last trip there in early July with my sweet sweet ex lover whom I miss so dearly even though she is still around.
I remember standing blinking in the sunlight at the airport. You and your friends walking towards me all cocky and confident as you always did whenever we’d been apart for a while. You wearing your short shorts and your boots. Your breasts swinging under your t-shirt. It was so amazing to see you and I loved you to pieces. I had my pack and we squished into the car. Your friends were so amazingly warm and friendly although I’d probably cock-blocked half of them or at least unset any back-of-the-mind expectation they’d had of some easy sex. We’d driven out all cramped to the desert and finally spewed out all of our gear onto the playa dust. The most amazing thing was that we were actually camped with Rangers and there was a level of take-no-shit self-reliance and core competence that was a relief to see. That night we got high and wandered from small camp to small camp like a miniature Burning Man. We stopped at a retooled school-bus where you managed to make sure that I got a brutally painful whipping from a dominatrix. She told me to pull down my pants and choose a whip. I knew where this was going and I was happy to oblige. She wouldn’t stop and I had to actually pull away eventually, I was bent over and hanging onto your booted leg for dear life. I remember kissing this strange woman fiercely and then kissing you and then eventually we were driven off to another camp - this time the DPW – the people who were soon to build Burning Man. By the time the drug really hit the fire barrel was a glowing rotating cherry demon with ziggurats staircasing outwards from its warbling form. A lady from Gerlach sat on the couch with us and I clinically looked at the expression and tone of her voice, posture and garb. And the bikers from the DPW were awesomely fierce and scary; like out of the HellBoy movie – one man in particular – big leather slightly devilish shaved head with a goatee and big boots, leather and muscle stood out. Then there were the hilarious stories they traded back and forth. It was like we stepped into a family; we were listening to the little squabbles the cute endearments, the greetings – it was so deliciously wonderful.
There was one manic moment where you and I hit a pitch of simultaneity. Those guys were talking about all the places they’d been and how some were now on the out, and how Indonesia was on the in. We just looked at each other and had to walk away; holding each other and laughing. In that moment you were burned into my mind; that sheer expression of glee, your beauty, your expression. It was your perfect face; the strong structure of it – strong clean lines, strong jaw, strong brow – so capable so sweet so ready. I was so lucky to have you in my life. The drug made my skin and body feel light and papery. It was cold but I didn’t really feel it and I felt like many layers of paper compressed together – and when I held you you felt the same; that rushing brushing snake skin of change about to climb out all sinewy slick wet and new.
There were other etched moments that evening. Kissing on you. Seeing the geometric patterns rising up from illuminated computational surface that is the inner eye of my brain. Big rotating forms of clouds blocky and bumping against each other. Fonts floating over backdrops with drop shadows and complex graffiti entanglements stretching out into geometric patterns. Goth and terror imagery, scars and wounds and skulls and repetitive patterns repeating over and over. There was a rich lush space triggered by each kiss.
Back at camp you clung to me. I lay down on blankets in the desert. Your black hair pouring down around our faces like a miniature tent. I swept down on you, rolling you onto your back. Then each piece of clothing I tugged off carefully; each one bringing you a little bit closer to being naked in the desert. You untangled the dusty shorts I was wearing till I too was naked above you. My mouth sought your nipples, sucked and pulled and teased, flicking over and over until you were soaking wet against my thigh. Your body was so beautiful, the strong acrid smell of sweat, the coppery taste of your period, the tracery of your tattoos barely visible in the moonlight. I loved using my hands to pulling against the sheets of muscles on your ribs, your back, your buttocks; I loved the strength and power of your body. Your kisses were more and more assertive; more fierce; your tongue slipping out hot and quick, pushing in with determination – we kissed for a long time – for hours I think. My tongue sought downwards pressing on your warmest parts, kissing urgently, using my tongue to probe inside of you – rimming you, sucking your clit into my mouth and biting, holding down your arms and hands and using my hands and legs to pin you in place. And at some point you were bucking against my body; pushing your crotch up towards me over and over. We rolled over again and I lifted you up onto my hips, lifting my arms and legs into a chair pose and feeling the head of my cock liquid and hard pressing up against your inner belly. You squatted on the perverse throne of my body and gushed fluid down my legs and torso and I spasmed inside of you. Your heavy breasts swollen and hard grazed back and forth against my chest and then pressed into me as we rocked forward through the night.
I remember at one point that night in the desert you said we should go have sex with our friend too. I thought that would have been hot; to see you play with others who were so clearly was hungry and in need – but I wanted you that night. I wanted you all to myself and I was pretty sure about that that. If I could have folded our selves together I would have. I felt like all others could wait. I craved your intimacy and attention, your sweet parts that fit so easily into my mouth and my hands.
Back to the present.
I was now walking the city in reverse – early in the morning – walking in the bike lane and then across the bridges that spanned the ravines. The city was laid out to my right, glowing and dim. The homes of mortals – men and women were filled with light and laughter and love in the darkness. People were curled up in their little beds, and children were dreaming impossible dreams of far futures beyond understanding.
I walked home.
And went to sleep.