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10:37AM Saturday, October 15th, 2022
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More stories to check out before you go
After years in a relationship, one woman was ready to get raunchy and explore the world of orgies. (Warning: Graphic Content)
After years in a relationship, one woman is ready to get raunchy and explore the world of orgies.
A gorgeous brunette is slowly undressing me. I can’t remember her name, but her face is somewhere around my waist, lips kissing my stomach, her hands grabbing my hips.
We’re sliding over the edge of a black leather couch as she kneels on the floor, slowly slipping my black lace negligee over my head.
Her husband is sitting opposite us. Another woman is perched on the armrest above me, lightly stroking my arm and kissing my neck. Several men and women are standing around watching us.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever, ever experienced.
This is my first orgy - and it seems to be going pretty well. More specifically, I’m at an exclusive sex party being held by Killing Kittens. First started in the UK by Emma Sayle (who used to hang with Kate Middleton) these high-end events are all about the ladies – men are only allowed if they’re the guest of a woman.
Female empowerment is central to Killing Kittens approach. Anything goes at these parties, but only when women initiate. Members are put through a vetting process before being allowed into the community and everyone signs a non-disclosure agreement.
It’s hard to believe how different my headspace is now, compared with a few hours ago.
Walking up to the front door of this terrace house in a leafy, conservative suburb in Sydney, I felt a mixture of terror and curiosity. The house’s exterior couldn’t have been further from what I imagined was happening inside. I was surprised to be greeted by two hosts, who were friendly, fully clothed and shook my hand in a very businesslike manner.
The evening’s theme was Moulin Rouge. But instead of the token effort I imagined others would make, when I see my fellow guests milling around the living room sipping champagne, I was impressed. The girls had clearly put in effort. Their hair is curled, breasts plumped up with beautiful corsets and feather boas draped around their necks. The guys are wearing crisp white shirts, black trousers and masks.
I had opted for a black negligee, thigh-high fishnet stockings, heels and a mask - I’d never felt more exposed. I make a beeline for the bar. What the hell am I even doing here? Truthfully, it’s something I need to do. Now perilously close to my mid-thirties, until recently I’d spent my adult life in long-term relationships. Sex has been during those years pretty vanilla. It’s hasn’t been bad, it just hasn’t been this amazing thing.
Eventually any lust or passion disappeared and my relationships came to and end. Either I keep finding partners who I’m not sexually in sync with, or I’m not sexually in sync with myself. What am I even into? I’ve been asking myself since I became single, and that's what brought me here. Orgy first steps Vodka soda in hand, I plunge into the the throng.
The hundred or so attendees are chatting and getting to know each other, like any other party. There are couples, single girls, friends and orgy veterans – all completely normal people. It is so far from the sleazy parties filled with handsy, middle-aged men every woman worries these events will be. Clearly the vetting process is a rigorous one – the first thing I notice is how hot everyone is.
We laugh at the family photos lining the hallway wall and wonder if these poor people who’d listed their home on Air BnB have any idea what’d be happening in their marital beds tonight.
They’d better have charged a hefty cleaning fee. Ages range from early twenties to mid-forties and rather than making awkward small talk about the weather while ignoring the dirty little elephant in the room until drunk enough to make a move, everyone is really honest about their reasons for being here.
Mostly, people are just as curious and nervous as I feel. Some, like me, don’t think they’ll participate, while the veterans speak openly about their experiences.
Watching my coupled-up friends in recent years, the biggest thing I’ve noticed is that their most serious problems stem from their sex lives (or lack of) which often ends up in infidelity. But the couples here tonight are operating on a completely different frequency. They’re not trying to fix something that’s broken in their relationships.
In fact, they say, their relationships are amazing and it’s because they’ve created space to communicate about what they want sexually in a safe and supportive environment. Some of these couples are 10 years younger than me, but they’re decades more enlightened.
Then, the fun begins. A half-naked guy walks up to the bar mentioning that it’s all happening upstairs. So I neck my drink, ask the female bartender for another and climb the staircase. From the room above me I hear laughing and chatting. Down the hall a woman is moaning really loudly.
There are three bedrooms. I take door number one and steel myself.
I enter to find eight people having sex on a bed. They’re pouring over the sides, an erotic mess of moaning. Girl on girl, guy on girl, it’s all happening.
Strangely, there’s a tepee in the corner housing a girl sitting on someone’s face. I don’t know if it’s her partner.
Not everyone’s involved. People are standing around watching, but it’s all pretty casual. The vibe almost feels like that of a group of blokes standing around drinking beers and kicking the tyres of a car. Almost.
It’s through door number-two that I come across a girl who looks like Kate Winslet. She’s having sex with a stunning, petite redhead with alabaster skin. Winslet’s husband is sitting on a chair next to the bed masturbating. A short-haired blonde wearing a black trench coat is sitting at the head. Another couple are standing by the window watching, like seasoned voyeurs.
A voyeur I’m not. Best case I’m dithering in the doorway looking awkward AF, worst case my resting bitch face will make me look like total creep. So, me being me, I make a joke about it.
Everyone laughs and the girls ask me to sit on the bed and relax. By this point I’m four vodkas deep and my heels were starting to hurt, so I oblige.
Wow, these ladies are mesmerising. The room is quiet, all eyes fixed on these two gorgeous creatures as they explore each other. Winslet’s long, dark hair is falling everywhere. They writhe all over the bed, panting and giggling, all the while inching closer to me. They both grab hold of my thighs as the other goes down on her. Before long their heads are in my lap and they’re encouraging me to get involved.
Holy shit, this is turning me on, I realise. What am I even into? I’ve been asking. Apparently, it’s this.
But I chicken out, not wanting to spoil their beauty with my all awkwardness.
Over the next few hours, everyone wanders between rooms, chatting and joking; people chop and change partners; splinter groups form in the living room; I witness folks being rimmed while I eat lollies and oysters on the dining room floor with a few girls.
By 1:30am the questions start from other guests. Am I going to give it a crack? They were right, of course. I was stalling, but the urge to get involved was growing.
By this time of the evening, Winslet and I are friends. We’d chatted about life while watching two girls practicing Shibari (a form of Japanese rope bondage), and I’d gotten to know her husband. I felt comfortable with her, plus, she was hot.
Which is how we end up sliding half-off the living room couch, making out, grinding against each other and taking turns going down on one another.
Not only was it incredibly hot, it was really fun. We giggled and felt like we had no idea what we were doing, but somehow managed to do it all exactly right. It must be instinctive.
The safe and casual environment was a massive part of the reason I went this far – and didn’t care when I came up for air to see people watching our show.
It’s funny how things aren’t a big deal if you don’t make them a big deal.
After saying goodbye with fist-pumps by my proud, new friends, I change back into jeans and order an Uber to take me back to my regular life.
But I feel like something has been unlocked inside of me. Something kinky – something I’ve long suspected is there.
This was my first orgy, but it definitely won’t be my last.
This article originally appeared in Body and Soul and was reproduced with permission
The popular personality recently discovered she’s one of only 5 per cent of all women who experience this rare act in the bedroom.
There’s one habit that we’re all guilty of – and it’s killing our sex lives. But there’s an easy solution, says Jana Hocking.
Researchers discovered this secret hack to the female orgasm decades ago, but Nadia Bokody says few men are aware of it.

10:37AM Saturday, October 15th, 2022
A NOTE ABOUT RELEVANT ADVERTISING: We collect information about the content (including ads) you use across this site and use it to make both advertising and content more relevant to you on our network and other sites. Find out more about our policy and your choices, including how to opt-out. Sometimes our articles will try to help you find the right product at the right price. We may receive payment from third parties for publishing this content or when you make a purchase through the links on our sites.
Nationwide News Pty Ltd © 2022. All times AEDT (GMT +11). Powered by WordPress.com VIP
More stories to check out before you go
After years in a relationship, one woman was ready to get raunchy and explore the world of orgies. (Warning: Graphic Content)
After years in a relationship, one woman is ready to get raunchy and explore the world of orgies.
A gorgeous brunette is slowly undressing me. I can’t remember her name, but her face is somewhere around my waist, lips kissing my stomach, her hands grabbing my hips.
We’re sliding over the edge of a black leather couch as she kneels on the floor, slowly slipping my black lace negligee over my head.
Her husband is sitting opposite us. Another woman is perched on the armrest above me, lightly stroking my arm and kissing my neck. Several men and women are standing around watching us.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever, ever experienced.
This is my first orgy - and it seems to be going pretty well. More specifically, I’m at an exclusive sex party being held by Killing Kittens. First started in the UK by Emma Sayle (who used to hang with Kate Middleton) these high-end events are all about the ladies – men are only allowed if they’re the guest of a woman.
Female empowerment is central to Killing Kittens approach. Anything goes at these parties, but only when women initiate. Members are put through a vetting process before being allowed into the community and everyone signs a non-disclosure agreement.
It’s hard to believe how different my headspace is now, compared with a few hours ago.
Walking up to the front door of this terrace house in a leafy, conservative suburb in Sydney, I felt a mixture of terror and curiosity. The house’s exterior couldn’t have been further from what I imagined was happening inside. I was surprised to be greeted by two hosts, who were friendly, fully clothed and shook my hand in a very businesslike manner.
The evening’s theme was Moulin Rouge. But instead of the token effort I imagined others would make, when I see my fellow guests milling around the living room sipping champagne, I was impressed. The girls had clearly put in effort. Their hair is curled, breasts plumped up with beautiful corsets and feather boas draped around their necks. The guys are wearing crisp white shirts, black trousers and masks.
I had opted for a black negligee, thigh-high fishnet stockings, heels and a mask - I’d never felt more exposed. I make a beeline for the bar. What the hell am I even doing here? Truthfully, it’s something I need to do. Now perilously close to my mid-thirties, until recently I’d spent my adult life in long-term relationships. Sex has been during those years pretty vanilla. It’s hasn’t been bad, it just hasn’t been this amazing thing.
Eventually any lust or passion disappeared and my relationships came to and end. Either I keep finding partners who I’m not sexually in sync with, or I’m not sexually in sync with myself. What am I even into? I’ve been asking myself since I became single, and that's what brought me here. Orgy first steps Vodka soda in hand, I plunge into the the throng.
The hundred or so attendees are chatting and getting to know each other, like any other party. There are couples, single girls, friends and orgy veterans – all completely normal people. It is so far from the sleazy parties filled with handsy, middle-aged men every woman worries these events will be. Clearly the vetting process is a rigorous one – the first thing I notice is how hot everyone is.
We laugh at the family photos lining the hallway wall and wonder if these poor people who’d listed their home on Air BnB have any idea what’d be happening in their marital beds tonight.
They’d better have charged a hefty cleaning fee. Ages range from early twenties to mid-forties and rather than making awkward small talk about the weather while ignoring the dirty little elephant in the room until drunk enough to make a move, everyone is really honest about their reasons for being here.
Mostly, people are just as curious and nervous as I feel. Some, like me, don’t think they’ll participate, while the veterans speak openly about their experiences.
Watching my coupled-up friends in recent years, the biggest thing I’ve noticed is that their most serious problems stem from their sex lives (or lack of) which often ends up in infidelity. But the couples here tonight are operating on a completely different frequency. They’re not trying to fix something that’s broken in their relationships.
In fact, they say, their relationships are amazing and it’s because they’ve created space to communicate about what they want sexually in a safe and supportive environment. Some of these couples are 10 years younger than me, but they’re decades more enlightened.
Then, the fun begins. A half-naked guy walks up to the bar mentioning that it’s all happening upstairs. So I neck my drink, ask the female bartender for another and climb the staircase. From the room above me I hear laughing and chatting. Down the hall a woman is moaning really loudly.
There are three bedrooms. I take door number one and steel myself.
I enter to find eight people having sex on a bed. They’re pouring over the sides, an erotic mess of moaning. Girl on girl, guy on girl, it’s all happening.
Strangely, there’s a tepee in the corner housing a girl sitting on someone’s face. I don’t know if it’s her partner.
Not everyone’s involved. People are standing around watching, but it’s all pretty casual. The vibe almost feels like that of a group of blokes standing around drinking beers and kicking the tyres of a car. Almost.
It’s through door number-two that I come across a girl who looks like Kate Winslet. She’s having sex with a stunning, petite redhead with alabaster skin. Winslet’s husband is sitting on a chair next to the bed masturbating. A short-haired blonde wearing a black trench coat is sitting at the head. Another couple are standing by the window watching, like seasoned voyeurs.
A voyeur I’m not. Best case I’m dithering in the doorway looking awkward AF, worst case my resting bitch face will make me look like total creep. So, me being me, I make a joke about it.
Everyone laughs and the girls ask me to sit on the bed and relax. By this point I’m four vodkas deep and my heels were starting to hurt, so I oblige.
Wow, these ladies are mesmerising. The room is quiet, all eyes fixed on these two gorgeous creatures as they explore each other. Winslet’s long, dark hair is falling everywhere. They writhe all over the bed, panting and giggling, all the while inching closer to me. They both grab hold of my thighs as the other goes down on her. Before long their heads are in my lap and they’re encouraging me to get involved.
Holy shit, this is turning me on, I realise. What am I even into? I’ve been asking. Apparently, it’s this.
But I chicken out, not wanting to spoil their beauty with my all awkwardness.
Over the next few hours, everyone wanders between rooms, chatting and joking; people chop and change partners; splinter groups form in the living room; I witness folks being rimmed while I eat lollies and oysters on the dining room floor with a few girls.
By 1:30am the questions start from other guests. Am I going to give it a crack? They were right, of course. I was stalling, but the urge to get involved was growing.
By this time of the evening, Winslet and I are friends. We’d chatted about life while watching two girls practicing Shibari (a form of Japanese rope bondage), and I’d gotten to know her husband. I felt comfortable with her, plus, she was hot.
Which is how we end up sliding half-off the living room couch, making out, grinding against each other and taking turns going down on one another.
Not only was it incredibly hot, it was really fun. We giggled and felt like we had no idea what we were doing, but somehow managed to do it all exactly right. It must be instinctive.
The safe and casual environment was a massive part of the reason I went this far – and didn’t care when I came up for air to see people watching our show.
It’s funny how things aren’t a big deal if you don’t make them a big deal.
After saying goodbye with fist-pumps by my proud, new friends, I change back into jeans and order an Uber to take me back to my regular life.
But I feel like something has been unlocked inside of me. Something kinky – something I’ve long suspected is there.
This was my first orgy, but it definitely won’t be my last.
This article originally appeared in Body and Soul and was reproduced with permission
The popular personality recently discovered she’s one of only 5 per cent of all women who experience this rare act in the bedroom.
There’s one habit that we’re all guilty of – and it’s killing our sex lives. But there’s an easy solution, says Jana Hocking.
Researchers discovered this secret hack to the female orgasm decades ago, but Nadia Bokody says few men are aware of it.

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