GROUP SEX (THE TOTALLY TYLER REMIX)

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WARNING: This blog contains adult subject matters of a graphic sexual nature. Moms and grandparents, consider yourselves warned.

When I was younger, I loved remixes. I was thrilled to hear my favorite songs reinvented and reinterpreted. I scoured Tower Records for maxi-singles, limited edition vinyls and hard-to-find imports.

My high school senior photo, surrounded by my 12″ singles

There was something very rewarding about finally getting my hands on a rare remix. Then the internet came along and now, every remix ever created is at my fingertips, available for download. Music blogs, iTunes or a simple Google search will immediately yield at least half a dozen remixes of your favorite songs.

I guess I’m officially old because now I find remixes to be tedious and monotonous. If I download a remix, I might listen to it a few times but eventually, I delete it, favoring the album version. These days, remixes are ten minute long marathons of emotionless, repetitive, hard beats that completely lose the essence of the original song.

Another reason I think I’m getting old: I’m losing interest in sex. Yes, yes, I can still get it up- there’s no need to send me a gift prescription for Viagra just yet. I still get horny and find certain people sexy.

Sex. Is. Everywhere. Movies, television shows and music are saturated with sex. Commercials, billboards and product promotions are tinged with blatant, risqué imagery. I can’t walk down the street, go into a bar or log onto Twitter and Facebook without someone throwing themselves at me. There’s free porn on the internet, and thanks to Grindr, I don’t even have to leave my block to get body-rocked. It’s just so easy!

As a result, my senses are dulled and my never-satisfied libido is constantly looking for more stimuli. Whether it’s chasing after another boy, sexier than the last, having a three way, or searching for one more porn clip that will push me over the edge, the pursuit of sex never seems to end.

So when will it end? At what point do I reach the peak? When will I find the ultimate sexual treasure of a lifetime and finally be satiated? And once I’ve fulfilled all of my sexual fantasies, what then?

Recently, I accepted an invitation to attend what I consider the final frontier in debauchery: an after-hours sex party. The invitation came from Toby, a boy I met on Grindr, of course, and had casually dated a few times. The party was in a dimly lit club in the basement of a Chelsea apartment building. It was clothing optional but I’m so self-conscious that I won’t even take off my shirt at Fire Island, so I kept my clothes on. Seriously, the last time I went to the pool, I hid my love handles and hairy shoulders by tying my towel around my neck, like a cape.

Now, you might be asking yourself: why on Earth would someone so shy and self-conscious willingly enter a sexually charged atmosphere that involves nudity and public sex. Here’s how- one word: vodka. I was drunk and it helped that I was there with Toby, who made a, um, nice, hard effort to keep me comfortable.

Toby led me around the club which had several dark rooms and hallways filled with benches, tables and slings. The well-lit central hub of the club was fashioned after a diner in the 50′s, complete with red vinyl banquettes. On the bar, right next to an industrial-sized lube dispenser, was an assortment of refreshments, including opened bags of Cheez-Its and Double Stuff Oreo’s.

As a person who prides himself on throwing fabulous parties, I wondered what hors d’oeuvres I’d serve at a sex party. Crudités with an herb yogurt dip? Perhaps handmade mini-Maine lobster rolls or cheesecake petit fours? I shuddered as I watched a man dig his lube-covered hand into a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. He inhaled the chips, wiped his hand on his bare ass cheek and scurried off into the depths of the club.

As Toby and I meandered around the club, it occurred to me that most participants were probably tweaking or high. Men remained quiet and awkwardly shuffled around, like bug-eyed, penis-hungry zombies, occasionally crowding into a dark corner or surrounding someone on a bench.

Toby and I giggled a bit as we watched but it wasn’t long before I felt Toby’s hands squeezing my ass and we started making out. And it wasn’t long after that, that I found myself on a bench, with Toby standing in front of me, and his penis in my mouth. And it wasn’t long after that, that a large, chubby man clumsily plopped down right next to me, so close, that our legs were touching. With Toby’s dick still in my mouth, I scooted away a bit and side-eyed the man as he stared at me. And then, the chubby oaf did the unthinkable. He spoke.

“Hi, how are you doing this evening?” he loudly asked.

Everyone- and I mean everyone- in the room looked in our direction. Dumbfounded, I didn’t answer but with a mouthful of Toby, I nodded and shrugged.

“Looks like you’re having fun there!” he said enthusiastically. I looked up at Toby and rolled my eyes. Toby smirked and looked away to keep from laughing. “I bet you have a fire in your pants right now, sir,” the chubby oaf continued. “Would you like me to put that out for you?”

Just as he reached for my lap, I popped Toby’s penis out of my mouth and swatted the oaf’s meaty hands away. “No, no,” I said. “There’s no fire. Thanks anyway.”

The oaf quickly got up and I thought he was headed to the exit, but minutes later, I heard him asking someone else, “Hello, how are you this fine evening?”

CLICK HERE TO READ PART TWO

Check out what sexy blogs other Insomniac Club members are posting:
Love the One You’re With by Simone Grant
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Delayed Gratification, an (UN)Dating Story by MetAnotherFrog
Don’t Skip Any of the Steps to Sex by Jess Downey
Group Sex: The Totally Tyler Remix by Totally Tyler
Sex in the Time of Bombardment by Confronting Love
Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex by Miss Taylor Cast
Ms. American Whore by Man Shopping in Paris
The Cube by F*cking in Brooklyn