It was a younger crowd, mostly couples in their 20s and 30s, mingled and chatted. Thankfully, prosecco at the venue was only about £6, so I knocked back a few glasses for Dutch courage (despite being warned ‘not to drink and kink’). I’m certainly no prude, having licked my fair share of peanut butter in my time, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to react at seeing so much sex in such an enclosed, magnified setting.
The top-secret location of the ball was released the day before the event, and so I trekked with trepidation to the North East London nightclub with a sick feeling of nerves gnawing at my stomach. I was grateful that it was ‘essential’ that we had to wear a mask, so at least my face was mostly disguised.Ĭouples have found a surprising way to keep sex spicy while trying to conceive Read More Stories
Anyway, any attempt to look sexy was straight out the window, as an enflamed tendon on my little toe meant I had to wear a thick white bandage, which bulged through my strappy gold heels. I knew I wasn’t going to have sex at the party – I had a boyfriend – and instead kept telling myself this was for research, that I was Louis Theroux with his wry smile at the orgy.Ĭhoosing something white to wear proved difficult – I had nothing particularly sex party friendly, so I opted for an off-cream jumpsuit that I’ve worn to job interviews. We were expected to wear white (‘To hide stains?’ a particularly crude voice said in my head as I spooled through the details). The rules also stressed this was a formal, classy affair, where you were expected to be dressed appropriately or face being turned away at the door. Sex parties are becoming more popular in recent years with a younger crowd (Picture: Getty Images)