Called the "Sweetheart ball", this semi public venue was perfect for a ball. The downstairs had a nice staging area, with an open bar, and chairs and couches for people to sit in. Ample bathrooms.
I arrived in a white and red dress with bright red Italian stockings and Mary Jane platform shoes. With a long wig.
Upstairs was largely empty but filled with beds and mattress. Lots of clean towels, bowls of condoms, lubes and Purell. It was more of a sex party than a ball. It might be the only type of openly sex oriented party in the city. But a well organized one, in that no one was forced to do anything and you did not have to have sex to attend the party (take me, I never have sex in these events, I have been going for some time now, I went there to primarily watch people having sex, and engage in conversations with participants, and sometimes I played the games these parties had, and even more so, I often enjoyed the entertainment these events put on).
Two scantly clad black chicks, one skinny one voluptuous, were dancing on stage with D.J. music. Women in costume, in lingerie, in dresses, in all sorts of make up and wigs were showing up in troves. Where were the good looking men? I couldn't find any, but I was not looking to talk to any men. I simply liked being at a sex party because I liked watching people having sex.
Upstairs along the walls were these large endless beds, in the center of the room were two BDSM spanking benches. Black, leather, and perfect for spanking. I found it rather invigorating as a man had bended his girl over on the bench and he was fucking her from the back. It was not so much that the fucking that excited me, it was the fact that he was fucking and no one was gawking that made me happy. I liked watching people having sex in parties. It felt surprisingly visually stimulating and calming at the same time, with slight arousal but not overly so. Two beautiful girls entered with a skinny boy. They put the clean bath towels on the bed and the girls started to make out as the boy watched and then participated. Another beautiful woman started to join in and another man joined. It was obviously a planned orgy arranged by these people, they soon had one corner of the room.
A cute younger Asian woman was giving a much older white man a blow job at the opposite end of the room. She was sitting on the bed, and the man was standing in front of her.
I went downstairs and noticed more and more women were on the dance floor, there were more women than men and the women were flaunting their gorgeous bodies. A woman with large bosoms had nothing but breast petals on her nipples. I would like to wear something like that to a party if I were to go with someone who I was sexually involved with. It would be a bit too much if my role here was to observe and watch others, and not participate.
A super cute girl was standing at the bathroom line, she was waiting to change her dress out and show up only with her lingerie. As I learned later on. I went up to talk to her. She had dark brown hair, with nice bangs, she looked like a brunette version of Kristen Bell, and possibly cuter. I liked that look. Soon she told me that she was here with her boy. "That boy", she pointed to the couch that was occupied by two super awkward boys. I so wished there were cuter men out there. Boys were not cute in this ball.
She asked for my story. I told her mine. In events like this, I did not need to hide. I did not have to be who I was not, and I didn't need to disclose too much. I said just enough. She was getting intrigued. She thought that I was 29 like she was. "I'm letting the boys to get acquainted, to make out a bit before I join in." She told me as she entered the bathroom, disappeared from the view.
I lost her afterwards for a bit as my companion for the night, an awkward man who was completely out of his element, was having a nervous breakdown. He had realized that once again, he was not cut out for this. "I can't meet anyone here. I can't talk to a girl. I'm no good. This is why I don't go to bars." He said to me over and over again as he became increasingly frustrated with his inability to fathom the courage to walk up to these women.
"Women here are flaunting their sexual energy here. You don't need to do much. You just need to go up there and say, 'you look beautiful', and then they would be yours." I encouraged him but he would not listen. He was too busy feeling insecure to listen to me.
So I walked around, and stopped by the eye make up booth, to add some colors to my face, she put a nice design around my face. I made a mental note that I MUST wear my fake eyelashes next time.
This is why I love San Francisco. Everyone can just be who they are. No one looks you funny because you are a bit of a freak. They don't just tolerate it, they celebrate it. It's perfectly fine to be who you are and not worry too much about what people think of you. I love art, music, outdoor activities and read, but I also love watching people having sex at parties. This type of parties provide exactly the kind of stimulation I need. I am undersexed and over worked. This is a relief for me. Where I can be anonymous and be perfectly fine left to my own device. I have learned that my perversion runs deep. Only one person gets me and allows me to express myself in ways others fail. But my interaction with him is super limited (creation of his doing, not mine). Therefore, I have to go out of my way to augment these needs of mine.
When I located my lost, increasingly depressed friend upstairs, I saw this gorgeous woman, large but not fat, was pushed against the wall and her partner was fucking her. She was naked and so was he. I liked how her face was never shown from my point of view. After he fucked her for some time, he went down on her, from the back he was eating her out, presumably to arouse her some more.
At that point, I saw Kristen Bell and her boys were getting up from the bed. They had finished the first round of threesome and they were heading down for a drink. The boy did not enjoy his girl paying attention to me, as she lingered to speak to me, he yanked her to drag her downstairs. Another no no in my world. An insecure little man was a definite turn off for me. I decided to move on as a man was now bending over on the BDSM spanking bench and a woman in high boots started to spank him. I noticed that none of these people brought a spanking paddle. I found the paddle to be exceptional good for spanking. And frankly these people were doing it for show and not for actual pain induction. I personally preferred a bit of pain.
My inner monologue was going on full steam at this point when my friend decided to head to the foyer. The organizer, Polly was bringing on performances and we got a good view from the balcony. Two people were having sex on stage as part of their act.
I remembered going to Power Exchange in 1998 with this blond boy who was into Harbin retreat and smoking pot. He had moved to North Beach from Boston, having graduated from MIT just a couple years earlier. I had gotten tired of my bicoastal relationship with my then boyfriend going to school at Harvard. I thought it was serendipitous he and I should meet. We met through friends and ended up on a similarly routed trip in Europe. By the time we hit Florence and Venice together, we were in love. We saw each other every week and we were practically spending every weekend together. With any amount of intensity like that, it would not last. Boy did not last. He was my age and too immature, at least that was what I told myself. But he was the one who took me to a show where I saw people performed on stage, having sex, and then drawing blood on each other, and finally pissing and pooping on stage. That was the late 1990s, and I passed a lot of judgment back then.
Two more acts later I began to fade. I saw a woman next to me was updating her Facebook status, it started with "wow, you won't believe the kind of crazy party I'm at." She then proceeded to describe the sex party. I could tell this was her first rodeo. So I left her to continue as I was getting bored with my surroundings. I wanted to see more real live actions. So I went back into the large bedroom. There were about twenty people now on the endless bed. All naked, all having sex in varying positions. I was vastly disappointed that no one was being fucked doggie style on these beds.
As more people entered the upstairs bedroom to fuck, I was heading downstairs as I was being told by my friend that he had to leave. The party reenforced his insecurities. And he knew that he was getting into a foul mood and he did not want to be there any more.
I was just beginning to have fun.
Alas, the evening was winding down. I had been to yet another successful San Francisco underground sex party being held no longer at its prior location on Mission and 21st but at a large venue. I was happy that I went, I was happy that people could be who and what they were at such parties.
I intended to dress nicer the next time!
I arrived in a white and red dress with bright red Italian stockings and Mary Jane platform shoes. With a long wig.
Upstairs was largely empty but filled with beds and mattress. Lots of clean towels, bowls of condoms, lubes and Purell. It was more of a sex party than a ball. It might be the only type of openly sex oriented party in the city. But a well organized one, in that no one was forced to do anything and you did not have to have sex to attend the party (take me, I never have sex in these events, I have been going for some time now, I went there to primarily watch people having sex, and engage in conversations with participants, and sometimes I played the games these parties had, and even more so, I often enjoyed the entertainment these events put on).
Two scantly clad black chicks, one skinny one voluptuous, were dancing on stage with D.J. music. Women in costume, in lingerie, in dresses, in all sorts of make up and wigs were showing up in troves. Where were the good looking men? I couldn't find any, but I was not looking to talk to any men. I simply liked being at a sex party because I liked watching people having sex.
Upstairs along the walls were these large endless beds, in the center of the room were two BDSM spanking benches. Black, leather, and perfect for spanking. I found it rather invigorating as a man had bended his girl over on the bench and he was fucking her from the back. It was not so much that the fucking that excited me, it was the fact that he was fucking and no one was gawking that made me happy. I liked watching people having sex in parties. It felt surprisingly visually stimulating and calming at the same time, with slight arousal but not overly so. Two beautiful girls entered with a skinny boy. They put the clean bath towels on the bed and the girls started to make out as the boy watched and then participated. Another beautiful woman started to join in and another man joined. It was obviously a planned orgy arranged by these people, they soon had one corner of the room.
A cute younger Asian woman was giving a much older white man a blow job at the opposite end of the room. She was sitting on the bed, and the man was standing in front of her.
I went downstairs and noticed more and more women were on the dance floor, there were more women than men and the women were flaunting their gorgeous bodies. A woman with large bosoms had nothing but breast petals on her nipples. I would like to wear something like that to a party if I were to go with someone who I was sexually involved with. It would be a bit too much if my role here was to observe and watch others, and not participate.
A super cute girl was standing at the bathroom line, she was waiting to change her dress out and show up only with her lingerie. As I learned later on. I went up to talk to her. She had dark brown hair, with nice bangs, she looked like a brunette version of Kristen Bell, and possibly cuter. I liked that look. Soon she told me that she was here with her boy. "That boy", she pointed to the couch that was occupied by two super awkward boys. I so wished there were cuter men out there. Boys were not cute in this ball.
She asked for my story. I told her mine. In events like this, I did not need to hide. I did not have to be who I was not, and I didn't need to disclose too much. I said just enough. She was getting intrigued. She thought that I was 29 like she was. "I'm letting the boys to get acquainted, to make out a bit before I join in." She told me as she entered the bathroom, disappeared from the view.
I lost her afterwards for a bit as my companion for the night, an awkward man who was completely out of his element, was having a nervous breakdown. He had realized that once again, he was not cut out for this. "I can't meet anyone here. I can't talk to a girl. I'm no good. This is why I don't go to bars." He said to me over and over again as he became increasingly frustrated with his inability to fathom the courage to walk up to these women.
"Women here are flaunting their sexual energy here. You don't need to do much. You just need to go up there and say, 'you look beautiful', and then they would be yours." I encouraged him but he would not listen. He was too busy feeling insecure to listen to me.
So I walked around, and stopped by the eye make up booth, to add some colors to my face, she put a nice design around my face. I made a mental note that I MUST wear my fake eyelashes next time.
This is why I love San Francisco. Everyone can just be who they are. No one looks you funny because you are a bit of a freak. They don't just tolerate it, they celebrate it. It's perfectly fine to be who you are and not worry too much about what people think of you. I love art, music, outdoor activities and read, but I also love watching people having sex at parties. This type of parties provide exactly the kind of stimulation I need. I am undersexed and over worked. This is a relief for me. Where I can be anonymous and be perfectly fine left to my own device. I have learned that my perversion runs deep. Only one person gets me and allows me to express myself in ways others fail. But my interaction with him is super limited (creation of his doing, not mine). Therefore, I have to go out of my way to augment these needs of mine.
When I located my lost, increasingly depressed friend upstairs, I saw this gorgeous woman, large but not fat, was pushed against the wall and her partner was fucking her. She was naked and so was he. I liked how her face was never shown from my point of view. After he fucked her for some time, he went down on her, from the back he was eating her out, presumably to arouse her some more.
At that point, I saw Kristen Bell and her boys were getting up from the bed. They had finished the first round of threesome and they were heading down for a drink. The boy did not enjoy his girl paying attention to me, as she lingered to speak to me, he yanked her to drag her downstairs. Another no no in my world. An insecure little man was a definite turn off for me. I decided to move on as a man was now bending over on the BDSM spanking bench and a woman in high boots started to spank him. I noticed that none of these people brought a spanking paddle. I found the paddle to be exceptional good for spanking. And frankly these people were doing it for show and not for actual pain induction. I personally preferred a bit of pain.
My inner monologue was going on full steam at this point when my friend decided to head to the foyer. The organizer, Polly was bringing on performances and we got a good view from the balcony. Two people were having sex on stage as part of their act.
I remembered going to Power Exchange in 1998 with this blond boy who was into Harbin retreat and smoking pot. He had moved to North Beach from Boston, having graduated from MIT just a couple years earlier. I had gotten tired of my bicoastal relationship with my then boyfriend going to school at Harvard. I thought it was serendipitous he and I should meet. We met through friends and ended up on a similarly routed trip in Europe. By the time we hit Florence and Venice together, we were in love. We saw each other every week and we were practically spending every weekend together. With any amount of intensity like that, it would not last. Boy did not last. He was my age and too immature, at least that was what I told myself. But he was the one who took me to a show where I saw people performed on stage, having sex, and then drawing blood on each other, and finally pissing and pooping on stage. That was the late 1990s, and I passed a lot of judgment back then.
Two more acts later I began to fade. I saw a woman next to me was updating her Facebook status, it started with "wow, you won't believe the kind of crazy party I'm at." She then proceeded to describe the sex party. I could tell this was her first rodeo. So I left her to continue as I was getting bored with my surroundings. I wanted to see more real live actions. So I went back into the large bedroom. There were about twenty people now on the endless bed. All naked, all having sex in varying positions. I was vastly disappointed that no one was being fucked doggie style on these beds.
As more people entered the upstairs bedroom to fuck, I was heading downstairs as I was being told by my friend that he had to leave. The party reenforced his insecurities. And he knew that he was getting into a foul mood and he did not want to be there any more.
I was just beginning to have fun.
Alas, the evening was winding down. I had been to yet another successful San Francisco underground sex party being held no longer at its prior location on Mission and 21st but at a large venue. I was happy that I went, I was happy that people could be who and what they were at such parties.
I intended to dress nicer the next time!
No comments:
Post a Comment