What is it they say about northern charm?
My Saturday night began with me trying, and failing, to work my magic on a number of beauties at a high-brow sex party. Sex was in the air – how could I not get my share? …so I made my excuses, and stayed.
Under the circumstances, any normal person would have exited prematurely with their dignity still intact – but giving up never was part of my character.
And it all started so well…
I’d roped in a female friend who was up for the party, agreeing that once inside we would go our separate ways.
After popping into a nearby bar to knock back a couple of beverages for Dutch courage, we decide to make our way to the party.
We awkwardly fasten our masks in the lift while another chap wonders what we are doing.
“Going to a party?” he enquires. “Yeah, something like that,” I reply.
We get off somewhere near the top of the luxury penthouse and are greeted by a rather burly looking doorman, accompanied by Jordie, the Killing Kittens North Hostess.
She takes our coats and we enter the party.
SO MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO: Kenny couldn’t hide his grin ahead of the party
We walk into the surprisingly small arrival room to find three couples, all in their masquerade masks, sat having a fairly standard conversation. Think ‘I-don’t-know-you-too-well’ small talk.
We make a beeline for the sofas, taking a glass of complimentary champagne en-route.
My date heads to the toilets. Suddenly the nerves kick in. I feel my temperature rising, a few beads of sweat drip from my forehead.
I’m on my own and I suddenly realise I’m out of my depth. What the hell have I let myself in for?
I look opposite, where an older couple sit and appear to be just as uncomfortable as me. I think about making conversation, but I’m drawn towards the table to the left with the three couples.
One girl catches my eye as soon as I see her – a dark, petite, exotic, Indian goddess. I try not to stare, but that’s exactly what I end up doing.
The two other girls are stunning too, one a slim blonde and the other a supermodel-esque brunette.
The brunette turns around. “Hi, I’m Sarah.” I introduce myself and tell her this is my first time.
“Really?” she replies. I tell her I don’t know what to expect exactly, but I have heard KK parties are all about the girls.
“Oh yes, they’re definitely all about the girls,” she purrs, letting off a mischievous smile.
She turns to the man opposite her. “This is Steven, my husband.”
The first uncomfortable moment of the night ensues, purely on my part. I feel better though for it, more at ease. This is until the slim blonde’s partner stands up.
The man in question is the definition of tall, dark and handsome, with beautiful, flowing black hair. A lothario, like a young Antonio Banderas, only somehow more handsome.
He comes my way, offers out his hand. “Jose,” he says, in a thick Spanish accent which has no doubt been making women weak at the knees for years.
I SAID ‘ON YOUR KNEES’: At KK, the girls rule all
Jesus fucking Christ, I think. Is this what I have to compete with? A Spanish sex-god who could make the most macho of men contemplate batting for the other side?
Me, I’m a pasty, overweight, balding bloke from Warrington. I don’t have a cat in hell’s chance.
I retreat to the bathroom. “Hold yourself together man,” I tell myself. I hear more guests arriving, and swiftly head back to the meeting room.
Everyone is up and about now, the atmosphere feels less tense, but I still need something to take the edge off things. I grab another glass of champagne. Pretty soon I’ve necked my third.
It’s definitely helped though, I feel my confidence rising and start chatting to the Indian lady I met earlier, who seems much more interested in my date than me.
I chat to her husband. It’s their first time too. I ask whose idea it was: “Her’s,” he says, an answer I get from various couples throughout the night.
“We’ve been married ten years and just thought we would spice things up.”
By this point I’m feeling talkative. I move round the room and start chatting to various couples, lone wolf style.
Pretty soon I’ve necked my fourth glass of champagne, and to be honest I lose count after that.
“Who cares,” I think. “I’m having a good time.” At this point I’m liking my chances.
Everybody is friendly, unbelievably beautiful and there’s no front like you get when you meet people on a night out. None of that.
THAT LOOK… WATCH OUT FOR THAT LOOK: Kenny’s ‘I’m ready’ face wasn’t as well received as he’d thought it would be with Manchester’s ‘sexual elite’
I head to another room on the other side of the apartment, where more and more people seem to be heading. I walk in and spot a familiar face, whose identity I will of course protect, but let’s call him Dick for a laugh.
It was no surprise to see him, given several weeks earlier he informed me that he’d been into the swinging scene for the best part of two years.
I must admit it was nice to see a friendly face, I didn’t feel awkward in the slightest.
At this point the drinks are flowing, the music is playing and there’s a great atmosphere. There’s something in the air, and everyone can smell it.
I buy a bottle of Corona. This isn’t so bad, I think, standing at the bar trying to look cool. There are a number of stunning girls in the room. Maybe I’ll make an impression?
It’s not long before the action begins, an hour or so after I arrived.
Just a few feet from where I’m perched, two girls start going at it on the couch. An attractive, dark-skinned woman (who I’d overheard was called Delilah) and a pale, innocent-looking girl.
They passionately kiss at first, but then the dark beauty slips her hand under her conquest’s skirt, though she’s come prepared and gone commando.
The pale girl writhes in pleasure, with everything on show. Before long Delilah is going down on her. Thank you lord, I think.
HIDDEN IDENTITY: All party-goers must wear a masquerade mask
I stroll over to the pale girl’s partner, who I’d briefly spoken to earlier on. “I don’t know how this is for you mate but I’m loving it.”
At this point, the guy tries to jump in on the action, before announcing, “I’m off mate,” presumably with thoughts of carrying out one of man’s most desired fantasies… a ménage à trois.
I’m excitable at this point, it’s a lot to take in for a first-timer. “It’s like being on a porno set,” someone says to me.
I’m pretty much speechless as I try to comprehend what I just saw. After about 10 minutes I decide to check up on the trio, who had set up shop in one of the three bedrooms in the penthouse.
This was allowed of course, all doors are open. You can’t jump in without being asked by the girls though, that’s a big no-no. But watching is fair game.
The two girls are completely naked now, passionately kissing and exploring each other’s perfect bodies. The partner is still on the side, clearly keen to jump in but waiting for an opening.
It’s clear the dark beauty is more experienced in this field, as she takes the lead, edging her head downwards between the other girl’s thighs.
The partner attempts to jump in again, but he looks more like a nuisance – the poor bloke looks like a needy dog begging for attention. Nothing against him, but it’s pitiful.
After about 30 minutes this brief love affair comes to an end, no pun intended.
READY FOR ACTION: Bring on the head massages!
I sit down and start chatting to Delilah while she casually sits there completely naked, her perfect breasts on display. Never have I found it more difficult to look a girl in the eye.
She tells me she trains in Mixed Martial Arts, a particular hobby of mine. I tell her I train in Brazilian jiu-jitsu and challenge her to a fight. Yes, a pretty desperate tactic, I know.
I pin her on the bed, playfully of course, and then I release her, as we both have a giggle. I’m definitely getting laid tonight, I think.
“There’s something you should know,” she says. “I only like girls.”
Yes, something inside of me died…
At this point the pale girl leads her bystander boyfriend into the bathroom, presumably for a pity blowjob or something along those lines. I would settle for a pity anything at this stage though.
Not long after this whole affair, Delilah starts on a new prey, the Indian goddess from the beginning of the night.
Now this I have to see. Her husband, who I spoke to earlier, has completely changed his demeanour. He’s transfixed by what is happening.
OUT OF HIS DEPTH: Kenny realised he was in for a tough time when he saw the competition
“This is what you came here for isn’t it?” I say. He smiles and nods his head.
The incredibly beautiful Indian woman sits up an all fours, completely naked. I’m literally inches away.
I’m so excitable at this point. “Have you seen what’s going on in here?!” I proclaim in the corridor to anyone who will listen.
A passing lady snaps and tells me to be quiet. I’m not sure how people are taking this in their stride.
Unfortunately it’s all becoming too much for me, my brain can’t process all this sex and debauchery.
I stop off at the bar for another Corona before heading to the other two bedrooms. I see my mate Dick heading into an orgy of four, maybe five people.
Within minutes I see Dick’s behind bouncing up and down as he pounds a stunningly beautiful redhead, his engrossed partner watching the action unfurl.
I don’t stick around for long and pop my head into the next door room where another foursome is going down. Again, no pun intended.
I’m still on the outside though, needing to get a piece of the action myself. I try to talk to a number of girls dotted around the party, but none take an interest.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m clearly very drunk by this point, and as the night goes on the pickings slim down futher.
I move around frantically in the hope I might pick up a straggler.
CLAWS OUT: Killing Kittens proclaims to be for Manchester’s ‘sexual elite’
I head into the room where I arrived at the party to find a voluptuous blonde straddling some lucky bloke on the couch.
It’s becoming clear I’m not getting my end away tonight. I’m getting desperate. I see a couple of girls head into a room. I follow.
I sit on the bed and take my shoes off. “What are you doing?” asks one of the girls. “Erm, just taking my shoes off.” A smooth customer as always.
The girl makes it clear I’m not wanted and I leave in a huff. Classy.
I decide to search out my partner, and find her sat on a bed getting a head massage off a 50-something Indian bloke.
I sit down next to her. Fuck it. “Can I have one?” I ask. “Sure,” he replies.
It was quite nice to tell the truth.
And that, right there, was the highlight of my sexcapades.
I, an average Joe, came to a sex party for the ‘sexual elite’, and the most action I got was a head massage from a middle-aged Indian man.
Names changed to protect identities. Apart from Kenny’s (poor sod).
Image courtesy of Phil Long, with thanks.
