There are a lot of gray areas in life, but I've tended to live mine in a black-or-white, all-or-nothing sort of way. Standing in the middle requires a lot of stamina and patience. The first I can manage if something is worth the effort, but the second? Um, yeah… Pardon me as I try to shake off a sudden vision of friends and family laughing so hard that they're gasping for breath.
When it comes to the Lifestyle, I seem to have taken the all route. It's something I've known for a while at some level, but didn't fully grasp until, in a moment outside of myself at a private party in Miami Beach, I realized I was in bed with six other naked people. (Well, not entirely naked. The hostess was wearing only her over-the knee boots. When I entered the bedroom she was in such abandon with one couple that, although I started off the evening in a pair of my own fabulous stripper boots, I slipped them off before climbing into bed. She was sexy enough to deserve the spotlight.)
I've attended other private parties, but what made this experience unique is it was the first where there was enough chemistry to go around. The four women were eager to play with each other, and the three guys, all strictly hetero, were eager to be with all of the women. In the past, I saw people breaking up into small groups – three or four people here, two or three people there – even if everyone ended up in the same room.
As much as I reveled in the freedom to literally have or be had by anyone in the bed with me that night, the excitement wasn't enough to shut down that tiny part of my brain shouting incredulously, “Really!?! Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore.” (I don't have a problem with Kansas or any other sexual state of mind, of course. I only mention it because a monogamish friend recently pointed out that labels like vanilla can come across as condescending.)
I think the moment of clarity struck when I looked over the head of the hostess, which was between my legs, to watch her being fucked by husband A. While on my left, wife A was riding husband B and having her breasts fondled by wife B; as the host was returning to the bed with a fresh supply of condoms and a gleam in his eye.
It's a lot to process.
The bit that's a little unsettling is that I keep waiting for some internal flag to signal that I'm floating in treacherous water so should perhaps turn the boat around. But I haven't seen it yet.
Although maybe that's because I have been cautious about the circumstances and people involved as I encounter new situations. So much of it is common sense: I don't drink too much or rely on anyone else for transportation, always let someone else know where I'm going, and carry cash and a driver's license, so I don't wind up unidentified in a body bag. They're the same rules I follow on every date – vanilla or Lifestyle.
Sharing a bed with six other people wasn't even on my sexual bucket list, but it's one I'm glad that I didn't miss.
