WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE IN AN ORGY

At their best, orgies are like sex with a trained octopus: many limbs, many tongues, hands grabbing and pulling, legs being opened, your mouth filled, too much for the brain to process, too much for the libido that got you into it.
At their worst, orgies are like Third World tourist sites on a hot day: too many hands reaching for you, each wanting something you could provide but aren't really in the mood to--a hungry crowd you resent for its hunger.
Orgies, like any anonymous sex, let you see just how ugly unshielded desire can be.
Unless the host or hostess is extremely capable and assembles a genetically engineered cast, orgies tend not to be populated quite with whom you'd hope.
The women--yes, they're available, but most benefit from dim light and the de rigeur excess of makeup.
And the men--every orgy seems to have way too many men, with all their dicks, guts, and body hair sticking out, pawing sad little clappers in desperate attempts to get them up.
Freud might think we're all a little gay, but we certainly aren't gay enough to appreciate so much of same.
And yet, despite this, the orgy can provide experiences you won't find elsewhere: the odd thrill of hearing grunty rutting close by; the women, one and then another and another; the incomparable sensation of entering a woman who's already being entered and feeling another man through the not-so-thick membrane; the frenzy of making a mess of your sexual categories.
And all the while, the thought that keeps going through your mind (and through the cab ride home, and into breakfast the next day): I'm at an orgy! I'm at an orgy!
Source Citation: Murnighan, Jack. "What it feels like to be in an orgy. (What It Feels Like).(Brief Article)."
Esquire 138.2 (August 2002): 81(1).
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