Last night I visited Paris again, this time with C and my friend Jordan, who took a train from Boston for sex; last time, he’d been part of a threesome with another partner, and his wife Amy had attended as well. This time, he came without Amy because she had some other obligation. But almost as soon as the consent speech was over, C and Jordan were rather eager to begin.

Jordan and I spent a lot of time kissing and caressing C’s neck, and we were among the first wave of people to get going. The next parts are a blur. There is a lot of touching, kissing, and caressing everywhere. C ends up going down on Jordan. I end up fucking her from behind. I remember the last Eiffel Tower and raise my hands from C’s hips. Jordan sees that and holds his hands up. Our hands meet, gloriously and beautifully, and then C pauses her cock sucking and perks her head up like a prairie dog. She starts laughing and says something like, “Oh my God, you, no, just, don’t, no!” I push her back down so she can continue, and the magic moment is broken. But once you’ve been to Paris, no one can take that from you.

We keep having sex. It’s fantastic. I finish eventually. Jordan keeps going, but he says he’s just recently gotten on a medication that can make it hard for him to stay hard. Which is a shame, because if I recall correctly, last time he was highly performant. I offer him some performance enhancing drug and he says sure. We have a strict no-drugs policy at the party, which is another way of saying “no drug use in the open, and also don’t be an asshole” so both of us go to the bathroom together. We’re both nude, mind you, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone to a bathroom with another nude dude before. Is this how gay guys feel? Probably not, but in the bathroom I give him the drug, he takes it, and we go back out and agree to reconvene at a more convivial time.

I go off to do my thing. The party is enormous; about 60 people are there, in a large space where mattresses line most walls. Spanking benches are available. One woman is being suspended from a hard point and I admire the rigger’s skill. At the beginning of the night most of the lights were white, but at the onset of the main event we switched to red and pink light.

While I was getting cleaned up or flirting with some other girl or something, Jordan asked C two questions that she later described as “awkward:”

1. Amy is interested in a threesome with another guy and would C mind if I am the guy? 2. Would all four of us be interested in doing things together.

The questions make me laugh. Jordan is very delightful in ways not easy to convey his words; he is a marvelous mixture of bashfulness and brash confidence one doesn’t often see. And the answers are “No, C would not mind” and “Yes, that would be delightful.” C and I laugh about this. I’m especially amused because Amy is highly sought after by many guys in a large activity-based community; some were openly sorrowful when she married Jordan.

The party rolls on. One unpleasant situation arises, but it turns out that I don’t have to deal with it because James and one of his partners already plan to. Big ups to James.

I’m not sure what else happens. Eventually I find myself in just the right situation, but understanding how right it was requires backstory. A woman named Zoey was at the party too, though I hadn’t invited her. She’s much younger than me, and I first met her some years ago when she was a freshman at a faraway university. At the time I didn’t think much about her, because she seemed pretty in a basic way and otherwise undistinguished. To my mind, personality and perceived attraction are linked. And she later had things to say about who she had been and who she’d become.

But when I moved, I reconnected with her through an unexpected mutual (non-sex) interest; we were both at an event when she came up to me at an event and said, “Wait, are you J?” Despite that moment, and although we like each other and chat every time we see one another around, we’ve never quite made it over the real-friend hump. She’d transitioned into polyamory, BDSM, and non-monogamy as well, so our trajectories were similar but parallel to each other and only occasionally intersected. Yet when we see each other, we often have that sparkly interplay.

Last night, she’d gotten vigorously spanked and then played with our friend, and when I saw her she wore a short dress… and, as I soon learned, nothing else. It’s cliché to say a woman has a gorgeous smile, but Zoey really does: it’s genuine, impish, and a sexual come-hither simultaneously. We were chatting and I immediately felt that warm flirtation bubble inflate. That bubble inflates with particular ease after a woman has been warmed up with a hand, then paddle, then sex.

I asked if I could kiss her. She said yes. We kissed slowly and upright for a long time. I don’t know how long, because my memory only registers the feel of her body under my hands as I roamed, and her hands on me. After a long, long time I stripped her dress and pressed against her. Somehow, running my hands under the hem of her dress to touch her ass was even hotter than being nude. I picked her up and carried her to the mattresses and set her down gently — more gently than she expected, I think. Kissing continued and morphed organically into sex. She was underneath me, and I drew her legs and knees “up,” towards her face, and held myself up enough for me to use my left hand to slide her right hand towards her clit.

Zoey laughed and said, “I’m a lefty.” Foiled! I brought her left hand to her clit instead. The sex was intense and primal, and Zoey said, “Isn’t it funny how we met and now we’re here?” I placed my hands and forearms around the top of her head and shoulders, forcing her body down onto me each time I thrust inside her. In missionary position the woman will often migrate away due to the force of the man’s thrusting; holding her like this prevented motion and increased depth and sensation. But I wasn’t thinking that at the time; I was wholly in the moment, feeling this woman’s body against me, from my cock inside her to her taut stomach to her breasts. She would moan and I would moan.

Again, I don’t know how long I lasted, but I know it was much less long than I would’ve liked to last. The totality of the situation overcame me and I whispered to Zoey that was I coming. She gasped and then gasped out, “fuuuuuccccckkkkk.” In the moment I of course thrust as deeply as I could and held. As I did she told me to stay and hold, which I did even after completion, as as she rubbed her clit. I don’t know if she actually came then, because she’d already tightened so much that I couldn’t distinguish between high arousal and outright orgasm.

But I did pull out and asked if she had more in her. She said, “Of course!” Had she had the pleasure of an Njoy Pure Wand before? No, but she was curious. I warmed the wand as best I could, because the tap water seemed lukewarm and I didn’t want to lose momentum. I tried the large end on Zoey. Too large. Then I tried the smaller end. She seemed more confused than anything else, as can happen when one experiences a totally new sensation. I didn’t find Zoey’s G-spot at first, either: I was too deep. We spent some time exploring, with me using the wand and Zoey touching her clit. She liked the wand in a very specific, small spot near her pubic bone, but stimulating it was too intense. Pleasure and confusion are rarely mixed like they were then. She decided to wait on the Pure Wand, and I used my fingers and she used hers into bliss.

In the meantime, C and Jordan had begun fucking again. After Zoey and I lay together afterward, we talked, including about her as a freshman. As she put it, “I didn’t develop a personality until I moved to [big city].” Which was an interesting thing to say because it matched my own feelings; she seemed to have turned into a different person. College, time, and experience can do that, but it was particularly notable in her case.

Zoey said she needed desperately to sleep and made to leave. We lingered for a long time in a smooth, beautiful kiss goodbye. I got a drink and a snack. C and Jordan kept fucking on a couch for a long, long, long time. So long that I worried about C and assumed she’d be sore the next day. Perhaps the marathon length could be explained by the medication that also made it hard for Jordan to get properly hard.

Whatever it was, he did eventually finish or give up. I came over when I saw C using her vibrator and asked if she wanted the Pure Wand (I have two and they are boiled between uses, for those of you who imagine me barbaric enough to uncouthly mix uses). So I got the second and sought lube. C clarified that none was needed. She likes the extreme cold of an un-warmed wand, so I gently and glacially entered her with it. As usual, she gasped. I was at her bottom while Jordan cradled her head and placed a hand around her neck.

From there I focused the whole of my being on the wand, using my entire body to get the right rhythm. And we entered another marathon, with C getting close to orgasm, then not quite going over. We’d entered an accidental edging session that finished with a massive crescendo that left C cackling maniacally through what seemed to be a minute-long orgasm. She often giggles when she comes, but this was the kind of intense laughed normally reserved for Chris Rock’s best-ever standup set, or a first viewing of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. When she was finished I felt finished, blasted, annihilated in the best possible way, emptied and devoid of form, like Morgoth after he is thrust into the void.