Orgy

Chemsex. Chillouts. Group sex. Whatever you want to call it, I've failed magnificently at it. OR: Big sweaty man-piles, lubey hands and ugly dogs.

 

Transcript

I got added to a random WhatsApp group a few weeks ago. Took me a little while to work out it was a guy I’ve shagged a couple of times who set the group up, because he wanted to get a few of his favourite shags together for a hot naked group session. I found that flattering, really. It’s one thing for a shag to think “That was great, I”d love to shag him again sometime” but quite another to go “He was so good, I want to share him with my friends”. That’s a pretty solid recommendation.

Sometimes I wish there was a Trip Advisor section on Grindr, so we could do this sort of thing more widely. Something like “7 guys recently agreed that this Grindr user is a cockpig. Highly recommended.” Besides which, it would be great to have a warning about guys that aren’t as good, like: “Warning: This user has been flagged as lazy and selfish in bed. Proceed with caution - You’re probably going to have to finish yourself off.”

Anyway, so I got added to this group sex chat. Definitely Group Sex. Not ‘orgy’, because that sounds like something out of a tabloid newspaper. Besides, it always makes me think of something really grandiose. Like it’s going to be in some marble chamber and everyone will be in togas, reclining on chaise-longues and eating grapes. When really it’s not much like that. Unless I’m getting invited to the wrong ones. In my experience, it’s a lot more humping in a bedroom somewhere, trying to get through it all without getting lube up a wall or on anything that might stain… If there’s lubey handprints up a wall, you’re probably not going to get your deposit back when you move out.

Anyway. This WhatsApp group. Everyone is very friendly, and we all chat about what we like and what we don’t, share a few tasteful nudes, stuff like that. Seems pretty nice. In fact, it’s quite well-organised; There’s a couple of group rules about playing nice and generally being polite and respectful towards each other, which I like. That’s totally my vibe generally.

And, happily, a rule saying no drugs beyond possibly a little booze. And for me, that’s great. After the flood of ‘chillouts’ around my way in the past couple of years, I’m very up for more sober sex in general, and especially in group settings.

I went to a few chillouts, when they were new and exciting. I didn’t go for the drugs - I’ve never liked mixing drugs and sex, but if a hot guy invited me to a chillout, it would just be rude not to pop round and take my clothes off for a bit, and then just politely decline as the drugs are handed out. Although even with that, I learned quite quickly that it’s not as fun as it sounds.

Even if the guys are hot and together enough to still be up for it, there’s something unnerving about a hot guy gurning at you. Think of it like this: You know those goggle-eyed little dogs? The ones that look like they’ve been hit in the face with a shovel, then squeezed really really hard? Imagine feeding one of them a toffee.

Nothing is as offputting as some guy you thought was really hot making unblinking eye contact and pulling those exact same faces while you’re trying to chuck one up him.

Although I think the time that really put me off chillouts was the last time. I got invited to this hot guy’s house early one morning. I’d just woken up, but when I got there I realised that this wasn’t a joint morning wood session - they must have been going at it all night through, possibly all weekend. There were a couple of people passed out on sofas, and the two that were still conscious were both far too high to be of any use.

One of them just stood in the corner of the room, facing the wall, jumping up and down to the music on the radio.

The other, who seemed a little more together to start with, snogged me, got me on the bed, pulled my top off and started stroking my chest hair, which was nice.

Until it distracted him from anything sexy and he just wanted to nuzzle it. So I let him get on with it, thinking that y’know, whatever floats his goat… Until he started snoring.

So at this point, I’m laid there, half undressed, staring at the ceiling and questioning my life choices, with one guy waving his fist in the air as he raves away to away to Nick Grimshaw on the breakfast show, and the other guy is laid on top of me so I can’t get up, and he starts drooling on my nipple.

That’s when I realised I’m probably not cut out for the chemsex scene.I know it’s not the most dramatic chemsex story, but it was enough for me.

So, anyway, this WhatsApp group was all about no drugs. Big tick from me on that one. I think if you need drugs to make sex fun, then you’re probably doing at least one of those things wrong.  Anyway.

So there’s more chatting over several days, and eventually we arrange a time when we’re all free to meet for sexy fun. So, the day comes and off I pop, with a pocket full of condoms and a spring in my step to this guys’ house, where we’re all meeting up.

Everything seems fine until literally as I’m getting off the bus near his house and there’s a message to the group “Guys, I’m sorry, but my boyfriend is home early from work, so I’ve got to cancel.”

I went mental. I got on a bus for this. Granted, it was only for 15 minutes, and I was still in Hackney, but that’s not the point. I messaged him, asking if he were, in fact, having a giraffe, but apparently not.

“Oh, if you’re that nearby, you can come round for a quick one if you want. Just me and you?” Ignoring the fact that he’d just said his boyfriend had come home, I rejected that on the principle of the thing.

You don’t lure me into the depths of East London with promises of a big sweaty man-pile only to switch at the last moment and offer me a quickie while your boyfriend’s not looking. I like to think of myself as classier than that, thank you very much.

After that, the group went a bit quiet.

Now it’s mostly used to show off photos or videos of various members having a wank instead. Bit of a shame, really, but I guess that’s how it goes. It’s like herding cats. You’d think a sales pitch along the lines of “Hello, you know that thing you love doing, and spend most of the day thinking about? How about doing that with several willing and quite strapping young men?” would get the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for chocolate blow-job machines. But apparently not.

Perhaps this is because, despite everything porn would have us believe, group sex isn’t ever that good. It’s never like it is in porn, because that shit’s all choreographed and arranged and filmed in chunks, like “Ok, 5 minutes like that… doink doink doink… Now you move round there, you grab a hold of that and you move your leg… Yep. doink doink doink…

And even if you’re not bothered by the lack of graceful, co-ordinated thrusting, it’s like a plate-spinning exercise. Even if you’re lucky enough to be in a group of people who are all attractive, it can be fun for a while, having sexy bodies to roll around on, but after a while they become more of a distraction than an improvement. It’s very difficult to get into your stride when, just as you get going, someone tries to get your attention by poking a nob in your ear, or trying to stick a finger somewhere it was definitely not invited.

Y’know, the more I think about this Grindr rating system, the more I like it as an idea. It could be just like the 5-star rating on Uber. You know how the best ones, the ones who want the highest ratings have tissues, chewing gum and bottles of water handy, along with somewhere for you to charge your phone? Surprisingly similar, I think.

I’ve got a rating of 4.85, by the way. I’m not telling you if that’s on Uber or Grindr. All I’ll say is that it was higher, but I lost some points when, on a night out, I put my phone in my pocket while it was still unlocked and accidentally arranged and cancelled 6 different rides in the space of 10 minutes. And you’re still not 100% sure which app I’m talking about.