As promised, here are continued updates on my weekly party activities in January 2016.
The gang bang happened two weeks ago Saturday. I didn't write an entry about it because there wasn't much to say. I had been feeling sort of under the weather all day, but got really light-headed and nauseous shortly after signing everybody in and wound up going home early. Turns out I had a mild flu bug, and I spent the next two days huddled under a blanket eating plain toast and soup broth. One of those times where I was really glad I was just working the party and not participating. Condoms don't protect against the common cold.
This past Friday Now-Hubby and I headed back to one of the CPP style parties. I had just started my period, but I knew the majority of the people who were going to be attending, and I knew they would be okay with me keeping my Meeseeks leggings on the entire evening and performing more as a service slut (sans penetrative sex). And hopefully be okay with me not exploding once a requested sexual task was performed.
I got to give a back rub to one woman, some G-spot stimulation to another, two blowjobs to two different gentleman, and facilitated G-spot lady being strap-on fucked by another woman. And I didn't explode. Huzzah.
Once the party had pretty much cleared out (around 1am), there were about five of the total twenty people still left around the house. Now-hubby and I were downstairs chatting with the hosts when one of my favorite examples of What Not To Do At A Sex Party came stumbling downstairs. Tip #1 if you're ever planning on attending a sex party (and you probably should at some point, because they're pretty awesome), do not get schwasted. Yes, there will be nerves if it's your first time. You may be unsure of the party etiquette, whether you'll get along with anybody else at the party, whether you'll get along with anybody (if you catch my drift). Getting super drunk in order to alleviate these concerns? The worst possible solution you could manage.
If you're nervous about a party or having any type of feels during a party, there is almost always a party host/organizer who will be willing to talk to you. In every variation of party I've been to, there has been at least one person I'd feel comfortable voicing concerns to. And I'm an apologetic Midwesterner with social anxiety.
After this gentleman finished the jungle juice concoction he had brought downstairs with him, we were regaled with a half hour soliloquy about how the party had been "too formal" for him (because nothing indicates civility like a bunch of naked people).
In his defense, it seemed he's more accustomed to the style of party where there's some pretense for a group to gather and then he gets to drunkenly woo one of the female partygoers into blowing him in the spare bedroom. So having to actually speak with a person about preferences or safer sex practices is a total mood ruiner.
Oh, and how condoms are stupid because as a person with a penis he's just statistically less likely to get an STI, and has actually had twelve different doctors refuse to test him for HIV. At which point I found it necessary to turn to Now-hubby (bless his cis straight male-ness sometiems) and verify that he's only ever seen one doctor, and said doctor didn't so much as blink when Now-hubby wanted to get tested for HIV. When Sloshy McVodkabreath decided to continue to argue the point, I decided to invite one of the hosts to the other side of the room to make out with me.
Sexy couch make-outs > cyclical drunken arguments.