There’s something infinitely sexy about spontaneity, about unexpected events and diving deep into forbidden adventures. Someone first took me on this ride, but I’m never getting off it (though I am frequently getting off). I’d never thought exhibitionist pleasures would excite me so. I love exploring the unknown, taboo facets of sexuality, but until recently I explored privately, locked out of the world of external gazes. Did I want to risk being exposed? Yes, sure, for the experience of it; I didn’t realize that posing in front of the camera fully naked with the top view of the whole city on the background would bring me an adrenaline and… arousal.

As I was pressing my ass against the edge of the fence, legs apart exposing my full nudity to the city, I could only think about how anyone could come in at any moment and spot it—and all I could desire was sex. I noticed that spark of excitement at my first sex party in New York: there was something more about being tied to the cross for flogging than the pleasure of being spanked and paddled. When I opened my eyes and saw the eyes of the party on me, observing my body curve and moan with pleasure, it instantly added up to my arousal.

That wasn’t, however, my first encounter with the pleasures of exhibitionism. I’ve experienced it with my ex-girlfriend when I was 14, unconsciously, while having sex on the beach in the late morning. It was one of those times when I often used to throw parties for my friends, who loved me taking care of it for my skill of organizing and leaving space for spontaneity.

So, speaking of spontaneity, my ex and I secluded ourselves not far from where our company was placed, close to the tourists on the beach. Making out on the beach, we were already fully naked when I heard my friend’s voice. He came to tell me that my other ex-girlfriend was lying on the couch, touching herself and calling for me. He stopped in the middle of the sentence, processing the scene he spotted, observing it for a while, then ran to tell my other ex-girlfriend that I was… busy. I get him, the guy was in the prime of his puberty. I stretched my ex on the sand and ate her out, feeling the powerful flow of adrenaline fill our bodies. I’m often “busy.”

My first sex party left me completely comfortable and confident during my second visit to the party. I lost myself orgasming while one person went down on me and six other hands were spread across my body. This, however, didn’t go without the unpleasant interference of my girlfriend Sasha’s jealousy; she ended up leaving during the rising action without even letting me know. Some people can’t process information when they seeing it with their own eyes: Sasha knows I can’t be monogamous. Knowing about my voracious sexuality and indulgence in polyamory from the very beginning, she seemed to accept it, yet she didn’t fully understand it till she saw me enjoying group sex. She couldn’t accept it. Later, after I’d come numerous times from that group, I felt a sting of despair when I couldn’t spot her anywhere at the party. I went to the bar to get another drink and met yet another couple with whom I indulged into vigorous sex right after. I stopped counting after my tenth climax. As both Julian Carax and Sasha put it, “I went from one all the way to ten at my first sex party.” It’s been my second, and I still feel like I haven’t reached the limit, haven’t experienced the ten. Do I have a limit?

Sasha and I made it up to each other. We decided that sex parties are not the right environment for us to meet. There’s an intimate connection between us when we encounter one-on-one. When she first told me about her jealousy, I asked her to be honest with me whenever she experiences such unpleasant feelings around me. And if to avoid the jealousy we have to sacrifice having fun at the sex parties together, then so be it. Possessive jealousy, however hard I try to eliminate it from my relationships, indicates the presence of feelings. And I, no matter how furious my appetites are, still deeply cherish a meaningful connection with people.