It was a Wednesday lunchtime, the middle of January, and I was at my desk wishing it was Friday evening already. Everything felt depressing; the weather, the 4pm sunsets, the blankness of January after the sociable frenzy of December. I didn’t have exciting plans for the weekend ahead, but at least I’d be at home with Adam, my boyfriend of two years.

I clicked through my personal mailbox as I ate my lunch, discarding the reams of January sale offers. I was about to delete the next message on the list, when the title caught my eye: ‘Valentine’s Fling, by invitation only’. The name in the sender line was simply ‘K’. I'm apathetic about Valentine’s Day, but I wondered if the ‘K’ in question was my friend Kate, and she was throwing a party.

I opened the message and quickly realised this was definitely not Kate's handiwork. The email was headed with an image of a Venetian mask, below which was the question ‘Be our Valentine?’ followed by a date, time and location, given simply as ‘central London mansion'. I kept reading down the page, taking in the ‘seductive’ dress code, and the requirement to wear masks to ‘heighten coming pleasures’ and ‘preserve anonymity’. By the time I reached the sentence inviting guests to ‘indulge yourself as you wish’ it dawned that what had landed in my mailbox was, in fact, an invitation to a sex party.

My instinctive first reaction was to quickly close the message window, not particularly wanting to get caught reading something that could likely get me in all kinds of HR hot water. Once I’d checked there was no one close enough to see, I opened it up again and forwarded to Adam.

How did I get on this mailing list? I typed. Something you want to tell me?! I didn’t actually think he’d signed me up, but how I’d landed the invite was a mystery to me. Adam and I had an active and very enjoyable sex life, and sure, we might’ve talked about the fantasy of including other people (quelle surprise, he was turned on by the thought of me with another woman) but never in a ‘let’s make that happen’ way.

His reply came five minutes later. Not guilty! Glad I read this on my phone, definitely NSFW.

Later that evening, we were eating dinner together at home when he brought it up again.

“So, did you work out how you ended up getting that Valentine email?” he asked.

“Absolutely no clue. Pretty sure I’d remember signing up to something like that.”

He took a sip of his wine, looking like he was hesitating over his next comment. “Are you tempted by it?”

I assumed he was teasing, so responded in kind. “Sure. I’ll grab the whip, you fetch the gimp mask.”

He laughed, and I thought that was the end of it. But, when I looked over at him a moment later, he seemed to be lost in thought.

“Why, are you tempted?” I asked.

He cleared his throat and his words came out in a rush.

“I mean, I knew, in theory, these kinds of parties happen, but I’ve never really considered them before, and we have great sex, I’ve never felt there's anything lacking, but... I couldn’t help but think about it all afternoon, to be honest.”

I was a little taken aback. He actually seemed to be considering it. Adam was not remotely controlling, but I knew that sharing me, with another man, at least, sat way outside his comfort zone. But I’d been thinking about the email a lot, and just knowing that he had too had my mind racing.

“Oh god.” he groaned. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it. I’m more than satisfied, please don’t think I’m suggesting…”

I cut across him. “Hey, stop, I’m not offended. I thought about it too, it could be kind of hot… and if it was awful, we could always leave. Hell, how often do you get to come home from a night out with a sex party story?!”

We looked at the email again, and now I wasn’t at my work computer, I could freely click to the website for more information. There were tickets for couples or singles, women were allowed to attend alone but all guys must come with a partner, and the rules clearly stated that ‘no meant no’ and women had the final say. Sex was never explicitly promised, but the mention of bedrooms and ‘equipped playroom' certainly implied it.

Merely reading through the site was making me wet, and Adam’s erection was almost bursting through his jeans. A minute later he pounced, and the laptop was put aside in a rush to frenzied orgasms.

Later, relaxed in bed, we came back to the subject of the party. Clearly, there was something about the idea of it that appealed to both of us, but actually going would raise so many questions. Would we just watch, or were we comfortable to join in? Were we okay with being watched ourselves? For other people to join us? Would it change sex between just us afterwards? What the hell do you wear to a sex party, anyway?

After talking about it some more (you try concentrating on this subject without continuous sex breaks), we arrived at a decision. We’d go, and see how the night unfolded, but within agreed boundaries. Observing was fine (unless it was an act we found objectionable), and we’d only participate if we were both comfortable. Being watched was a new, but not entirely unwelcome, idea, our conversation revealed. If a girl wanted to join, then she could do whatever she wanted to me. Adam’s limit was touching, or being touched or sucked - no kissing or fucking. I was comfortable with his boundaries. As for another guy, we agreed that we wouldn’t seek it out, but if a guy wanted to join in then touching and oral sex (me giving or receiving) was as far as it would go.

In the weeks running up to the party, we flitted between wondering what the hell we were getting into, and eager anticipation. The build-up added a kick to our sex life, especially as we went about first selecting, and then ’test driving’, the lingerie I’d wear. We also joined the anonymous chat room for guests that made it clear there would be sex of all flavours, from ‘regular’ to BDSM, and those discussions usually got us so heated that sex was the inevitable conclusion.

Finally, the night arrived. We followed the ‘cocktail party’ dress code given for the start of the evening, me opting for a simple, but slinky, black sheath dress, Adam for smart trousers and shirt. We arrived by cab to the given address, a tall, imposing house on a wealthy London street, and knocked at the door. We were greeted by a suited woman who merely enquired, “Here to fling?” We handed over our tickets and were instructed to leave our coats and don our masks before making our way to the adjacent room.

Masked, and after deep, steadying breaths, we entered a huge drawing room with tall ceilings, dimly lit with a bar set-up at one end. The house was lavishly decorated, with the feel of an upmarket hotel. Although everyone inside was masked, I could feel many curious eyes watch us cross the room to the bar. Whilst Adam ordered glasses of champagne, I looked around, observing about thirty guests, the numbers split slightly in favour of women. Everyone was attractive and well dressed, standing and chatting in small groups. It could’ve been mistaken for a regular cocktail party if not for the over-familiar touches, and heightened sense of excitement in the air.

The room filled further until there were maybe fifty people in total. Then, gradually, people began to make their way, in twos and threes, through another set of double doors. After a second drink, Adam took my hand and led me in the same direction. We arrived in a large, central hallway, a sweeping staircase leading upwards, and various doors leading to parts unknown. A small room off to the side seemed to be serving as a changing room, people emerging either naked or in varying attire, masks now discarded. A man exited totally naked, holding the hand of a woman in stunning lingerie. Adam and I turned to each other as if to say ‘are we ready for this?'.

We went to the changing room and disrobed, Adam down to a pair of tight black pants and me down to the lingerie we’d chosen: a black bra with delicate lace straps and sheer cups and a pair of skimpy panties, cut diagonally across the ass, sheer black edged in satin and lace. Nerves fluttered in my stomach at parading half-naked in front of total strangers, but at the same time, the thought gave me a secret thrill. We passed back through the hall, through an open doorway into a large, dimly lit room with high ceilings and a huge bed at its centre.

Around the edge of the room were a handful of people in various states; an underwear-clad woman on her knees, her head held steady by the guy deep-throating her; a guy sat in a leather club chair with a woman in his lap, her back to his chest, her legs wide and his fingers disappearing into her pussy as she writhed on top of him. A standing couple appeared to be more chastely kissing, but at their feet was a woman pumping the guy's shaft whilst lapping at the woman’s clit.

All were angled to watch the action on the bed, where a beautiful brunette was on all fours, a man rapidly pounding into her from behind, her breasts threatening to spill from a white demi-cup bra, whilst she gave an enthusiastic blowjob to another man knelt in front. Yes, this was definitely a sex party...

There was the unmistakable smell of arousal in the air, and I could feel my own underwear rapidly dampening. A quick look to the hard bulge in Adam’s pants told me I wasn’t the only one turned on by the hedonism before us. My breath was quickening, more so when Adam moved to stand behind me, kissing my neck and slipping a hand into my bra cups to pinch and roll my hardening nipples, his solid cock stroking against the crack of my ass.

We watched, mesmerized, as the couple on the bed fucked harder and harder, some of their audience seeming to meet the increasingly frenzied pace, others still languid and unhurried. The woman released the thick cock from her mouth, her loud cry indicating her orgasm, at which the guy fucking her pulled out and sprayed thick ropes of semen over her back. He collapsed to the side, gesturing for the kneeling man to step up and take his place.

Only one room in and to my surprise my nerves had eased and my inhibitions were fast disappearing in a fog of arousal. By silent agreement, Adam and I left the room to explore further. At the top of the staircase was a galleried landing, a couple of open doors immediately in front of us; moans, groans and sounds of slapping flesh emerging from each one. Corridors stretched off to the left and right, where a few people milled around, moving between rooms.

We opted for the corridor on the left, entering the first room to find it kitted out as a playroom. The wide variety of equipment inside ranged from intriguing to downright intimidating. A voluptuous woman in only a pair of black boots, with vicious-looking heels, was flogging a collared man on all fours. He, in turn, had his face buried in the pussy of a naked woman lying face up on a bench, her arms and ankles cuffed to its legs. At the other end of the bench, her head was tilted far back so a man could ease his hard shaft into her mouth as he moved back and forth to withdraw then push deeper. Again, around the edges of the room people observed, with varying degrees of attention as they became lost in their own pleasure.

The booted woman, who I presumed was a Domme, now swapped the flogger for a black riding crop. Each time she landed a harder thwack against her willing victim, it triggered a chain reaction. His face would push harder into the glistening folds of the bound woman, her resulting moan prompting a deeper thrust down her throat and groan from the man straddling her. By now, the depth of his thrusts could be seen in the slight rise of her neck, as he buried his shaft to the hilt, reaching forward to palm her large breasts. On the next thwack, the bound woman convulsed, the muffled moan as she came drawing an orgasm from the man stood over her, cum still leaking from his pulsing shaft as he withdrew from her mouth.

The sights and sounds were overwhelming, and by now I knew I was soaking wet. Adam was stood behind but slightly to the left side of me, trapping my left arm against my body, his left hand stroking over the front of my panties, teeth pulling at my earlobe. His right arm held me around the waist, his steadiness welcome as I shivered at the sensory overload.

The collared man must have pleased his Domme, as he was instructed to stand. His twitching cock looked painfully hard, the head throbbing and purple. I could feel Adam’s wince when the Domme took firm hold of the man’s shaft and pumped once, hard, asking if he thought he deserved to come. Behind him, a man had stepped from the shadows to slowly feed his eye-wateringly large cock into the dripping pussy of the woman still bound to the bench.

My attention was now distracted, though, by the feeling of being watched. I glanced into the dimness to my right to see a couple in a very similar position to us: a dark-haired man stroking the blonde in from of him, him watching the main action, but her eyes fixed on me. Her intense gaze was strangely thrilling, and the girl smiled as though she could read my thoughts. Her head tilted towards the door, brows raised in query. She whispered in her partner's ear and the man grinned widely at me before two of them made their way out. I was curious, but hesitant, until I realised that Adam had also observed the exchange.

“Want to follow them?” he whispered. His voice was husky, but I suspected his words were bolder than he felt.

I nodded and eagerly followed the couple out and down the corridor, hoping I’d not misconstrued the apparent invitation, wondering what lay ahead. We passed a number of occupied rooms, slowing to observe the erotic vignettes framed by each doorway: a woman wearing a strap-on fucking one man who in turn was blowing another, a woman lying on a chaise with one man underneath her, thrusting up into her pussy, and another stood over her, vigorously fucking her ass. In each room, you could sense, if not see, the eager audience in the shadows.

We followed the couple into another, larger bedroom. Three beds had been arranged in a T shape, and the entire surface was covered with writhing bodies, more people standing around the edge, as if all engaged in one communal act. It was a sea of slapping bodies in every conceivable position and configuration. My nerves made a reappearance; though the scene was arousing, it felt far too far a leap, even if there had been a spare square inch of space to join the throng. Whether they could sense my hesitance or just hadn’t found what they were looking for either, the other couple turned to us and shook their heads.

Back in the corridor, we arrived at the last doorway and found a room and huge, inviting bed, both empty of people. The only light came from dimmed table lamps at the bedsides and the spill through the open door. With the subtle lighting and sumptuous linens, I had the brief thought that it was almost romantic, though the trays of condoms, lube, wipes and toys around the room were a reminder that this was no regular scene of seduction. After the weeks of anticipation, I was about to participate in my first sex party…

To be continued.