The Goddess Closet

Imani produced a U-shaped clit-sucker/dildo.

“Do you want to play with our toy? Meredith can show you how to use it.”

I didn’t assume that the toy was dirty or infected—one of the requisites for entry into the sex party was a full STI panel—but I did remember a story a friend told me about giving an entire lesbian orgy bacterial vaginosis from an unwashed toy. Now, I could talk about how having an STI shouldn’t be a reason why people are excluded from participation in group sex events. I could say that this kind of exclusion propagates a stigmatized perception of STIs that is not healthy for anyone in the long run. I could also say that most STI panels do not include screenings for herpes, because something like 1 in 6 people likely have some version of HSV, and according to doctors, this sort of revelation could cause mass hysteria. I could also bring up the fact that most “straight” people are not tested for HIV, because of bullshit fake science. But all that is beside the point. I simply don’t enjoy being penetrated by dildos and I particularly don’t enjoy sex toys that have a dual clit stimulation/penetration element.

“No thanks. It’s not really my thing.”

I was living for my “no’s” and the power I felt setting boundaries. I was also enjoying turning down a straight man. I wasn’t getting paid, so I didn’t have to facilitate his pleasure. I was at the event for myself, and there was space for me to not want things.

“Can you kiss me and rub my clit while he fucks me?” Meredith asked.

“Definitely.”

They assumed the position, that position being Missionary. I spat on my fingers and got to work. I thought about how many times I’d jerked off imagining a scenario like this, except that in my fantasies I was the one getting fucked. But I didn’t want Imani’s dick or any of the dick offerings that evening. Even with the slight tingle of molly floating around in my system, my own pleasure was inaccessible. As I jerked Meredith off, I kept asking why I wasn’t into any of what was going on. Why was this event giving dry dick energy? Why was I in fight or flight mode? Where had the bit of horniness I’d felt earlier gone? Then Meredith squirted all over Imani and me.

“Oop!” I yelped.

It was exciting but also a lot of squirt, and we didn’t have a protective blanket down. Simultaneously, it was magical to watch her squirt. I can see why men are always so excited about squirters: it’s one very overt way of signaling a job well done. Or something. I tend to believe that when women/people with vulvas/clits/holes experience orgasms, the true agent of the orgasm is the person having the orgasm. As someone who has been stimulated by all kinds of people under all sorts of circumstances, I know that when I come, it tends to be because I’ve made a conscious decision and done mental work in the background to get there. But who knows. Lady orgasms are mysterious, and I was happy to be part of one.

Meredith gingerly dismounted from Imani who stood by, ready to fuck me next.

“How are you doing?” Meredith asked, sensing my hesitation.

“Mind if we take a break? I need to check on my lady friend.”

They nodded at me. We all sensed that this was it, that I would not be returning to finish Imani off. It’s a delicate thing, having a threesome, especially when it’s a unicorn situation. There is a lot to communicate, and lots of different desired outcomes in the mix. Usually, at least one person is not getting what they want, and that’s just the nature of the beast.

Around us, the frenetic romping had mostly come to an end. The mattress room had emptied, and those who remained were mostly chatting instead of fucking. In the dungeon room, there were people fucking on either side of a giant bed while the sibian roared in the background. The entire basement was humid and smelled like sweaty sex. There was a line of naked men standing awkwardly with varying degrees of erections looking around, searching for someone to partake in what they had to offer, but to no avail. They attempted to make eye contact with me, but I dodged. It seemed like a missed opportunity for a circle jerk, then at least they could all get off. Unfortunately, male bisexuality had not been introduced into the space. Instead of fucking with the men, a group of women were taking turns with a Magic Wand. I spotted V and we exchanged a look.

“Did you ladies check out the Goddess Garden?”

I spun around and noticed the host had popped up behind us.

“I did,” V said, glumly.

“Did you?” He asked me.

I didn’t appreciate the assumption about my gender, but I was exhausted and not ready to fight this particular battle.

“Not yet.”

“Let me show you, real quick!”

I reluctantly followed him up the stairs to a secret door which opened to what could best be described as a closet. It was not a Goddess Garden. He was literally sending the gay into the closet. I could have made a metaphor, but the Goddess Closet spoke for itself.

“Oh… So that’s where it is,” I said.

“I hope you both had fun,” he said.

I didn’t want to be polite but the polite came out because I was not about to call him out when all I wanted to do was get out.

“Yeah. Totally.”

“Great!”

V waited behind us. There wasn’t even enough space for her to enter the room.

“I think I’m gonna go,” she said, once the host left.

“Yeah. I’m ready too.”

There are moments when it’s hard to articulate why something is terrible, but you just feel it. As V and I twiddled our thumbs waiting for an Uber to arrive, fifteen minutes turned into half an hour, and then into forty-five minutes. It was like we were being held hostage by the orgy. Even the Ubers sensed the bad vibes and kept canceling on us.

After a small eternity, one slowly crawled up the winding road and parked a few blocks away from the house. V and I leapt up and ran to it. When the doors were shut behind us, I let out an audible sigh.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know, but never again.”