Another Kind of House Party

“And you women were doing what!?”

That was the question my friend asked me. With major incredulousness. And that incredulity was communicated via text message. So even though I didn’t hear it in his voice, I knew he was asking in a WTF kind of voice. To get to the answer and to understand the context, we need to step back a moment. So step into the Way Back Machine with me, will you? Thanks. Not going far back, maybe a couple weeks.

One of my male lovers is bisexual. That in and of itself is a broad and provocative statement, but what it means in practice is that he is open to the occasional oral pleasuring of another man. And for said pleasuring to be reciprocal. Now, for a set of reasons probably best left to a Ph.D. dissertation, this particular sexual preference is kept much more closeted than female bisexuality. Blame porn. Blame our homophobic society, it doesn’t really matter, it just IS. And because it just is, even in the swing and poly communities and every neighborhood in between, bi guys are just not mentioned very often. But, every so often, they are.

So there was to be a gathering of bi guys and their significant others. And we were going. Now for me, the actual viewing of two men orally pleasuring each other does little to nothing for me. But, the witnessing of how incredibly turned on it makes my lover does a whole lot for me. I suppose it works on a similar principle to a contact high – again – another potential dissertation topic, but being with him and pleasuring him in some way while he is orally involved with another guy is quite arousing to me. Or maybe it is because I love him. But I am letting my analytical tendencies get in the way of the story.

It was a house party. And again, I am not sure what I expected, but I can tell you what I did not expect. I did not expect that as soon as we got there, we would split into groups by gender. It was just like the beginning of a Middle School dance – boys on one side of the room, girls on the other – but at least there was no terrible music. Anyone else remember trying to dance to “Stairway to Heaven?” Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? But I digress.

So we ladies began to busy ourselves with each other’s ladyparts and the guys began to busy themselves with watching us. But as soon as they were aroused, their attentions turned to each other. And remained fixed there. And I do mean fixed. As in not wavering. At all. Now I enjoy a woman’s body very much – I suppose that makes me heteroflexible and I am fully capable of bringing a woman to orgasm. And I did. But for satisfaction of my body and soul, I crave a man’s body and a man’s touch. And in particular that night, I wanted to be with the man I walked through the door with. But he was, like the other men there, not at all interested in the carnal delights of a female body.

So, one by one, each of us blessed with internal gonads made our way to the kitchen (isn’t that where the best part of most parties happen anyway?) where we sat around the kitchen table, sipping our wine and chatting. And I was struck by how odd this was. My expectations were again wildly out of synch with reality. Here I was, again at a house party where I was going to leave frustrated. Judging by the sounds coming from the other room, however, the same would not be true of the male components of the couples.

I must have had my WTF? face on because one of the other women said, “Yeah. I know. This is how it goes. We usually end up in the kitchen while they are trying to get round 2 started with each other.”

“Seriously?!”  I asked.

“Yes” was the group answer.

Another offered, “If I’m lucky, there is enough left over from the Cialis so that I get a chance at round 3 when we get home.” That brought a round of laughter.

I said, “Mine didn’t bring any help with him, so I guess I have a date with my rechargeable friend when I get home.” More laughter. Which brought us to a discussion of toys and stores. Which then brought us to brick and mortar vs. internet. Which brought us to the economy and to the looming “fiscal cliff.”

Which is the answer to the question my friend posed that I mentioned at the start of this post. He was asking what we women were doing while our sexually adventurous significant others were in the next room sucking each other silly. He had a hard time wrapping his head around the juxtaposition of the guy scene versus us women, scantily clad as we were, sitting around the kitchen table talking politics and the fiscal cliff. I thought it was hilarious as did he.

I love meeting new people, especially those in the lifestyle, because I do my usual brain picking, asking lots and lots of questions to try and understand how others have gotten to this point in their lives, their marriages, their journeys of self-discovery. But I was expecting less talk and much, much more action, so I suppose I wasn’t in the right mode for intelligence gathering. And I was too sexed up to switch gears. But I try to look at each new experience as a lesson, and I learned something about expectations and how they can cloud enjoyment. I also learned something else, perhaps a bit more on the practical side.

Maybe the next time I am invited to one of these, I will ask if I can bring a special hostess gift or two.

What might that be?

You can’t guess?

How about a couple of completely straight younger guys?

Now that would be a party.

And I wouldn’t mind in the slightest if I never even saw the kitchen!