It was a warm evening in Florence, sky turning pink and orange at the horizon as Bernhard, Isabella and me crossed the elegant panoramic terrace overlooking the hills and the iconic sights of the city. The dull sunlight glinted off shiny ripples in the pool outside. We methodically walked through acres of lush gardens and open space before reaching the door of the villa and ringing the bell. Greca, the host, opened the door and kindly invited us in. I was warned not to use the term “sex party” before we arrived, and my nervousness made me all-together silent throughout the whole way.
The party took place in what the hostess called the “Noble Floor”, located in the very heart of the mansion. The fairly lit room was strongly characterized by marvelous frescoes and decorated and furnished according to the bourgeois styles of the late nineteenth century mixed with some modern touches. When we entered the delightful and prestigious sexually charged area, everyone’s gaze went in a different direction. The party had begun an hour before we arrived, and so some people were already half-naked and going at it. My eyes kept shifting from one person to the other, sometimes downward to the stone floor when I didn’t know in which direction to look.
In preparation for last night, I treated the party as it if was a date, a group date of sorts, where I was guaranteed to get laid. In order to do that, I had to look good. I wore a silk-blend, gray polo shirt, navy pants and black dress shoes. I walked between a couple flirting and making out on a plush sofa, and made my way to the bathroom to make sure I looked good. To my surprise, a threesome was already happening inside, so I immediately closed the door and went back to the main room. Isabella had acquired both Bernhard and me with a glass of Prosecco. As I grabbed my drink from her, I got hard just from looking at her breasts. The navy dress she was wearing left barely anything to the imagination; it was quite short and only concealed the lace around the tops of her stockings. It took me a while to wrap my mind around the fact I was engaging in an orgy before my horniness took over and pushed me to initiate a fixated eye contact with the sexiest person in the room. When the majority got fully naked, I took my shirt off and awkwardly walked around, my eyes searching left and right for the perfect sexual partner until they met the eyes of one of the hostesses who didn’t hesitate to slide her hand inside my pants. She jerked me off before dragging me to one of the empty sofas and completely undressing me. We started fucking, and a man soon joined us. Eventually, a dozen of naked people were surrounding us, occasionally kissing parts of our bodies and touching us. Women moaned loudly while men thrusted aggressively. A wave of heat and rush took over me, followed by a weird sensation where I felt like I’ve been divorced from my own body. I could see myself from others’ point of view. It was like my body no longer belonged to me. As my breathing declined, I stopped, grabbed my clothes and headed to the nearest exit. My sudden movements made me sick and light headed. My breathing became even more shallow and I felt myself becoming disoriented. I remember my eyes unwillingly closing until I totally blacked out.
I woke up an hour ago alone in my hotel room. Bernhard had left a message on my phone explaining what happened. I processed the sex party in my mind and tried to understand why people have them. The most obvious reason is sex itself and trying something out of the ordinary. Those people were acting as if they were having the time of their lives, mainly because they were aware that aging would limit their capability of exploring unknown territories since their sexual sense of discovery would slowly diminish as they get older, not to mention their looks would fade. However, why not engage in sex privately? Why do it out in the open? Being in a room full of people baring themselves out in the open caused the initial overwhelming excitement I felt walking in to fade as soon as they became easily attainable. Then a dark thought dawned on me: Although sexually attracting men and women to me seems fulfilling on the surface, I was reminded once again that this attractiveness wouldn’t last. Living my prime years has given birth to an intense feeling of dread as the countdown to my physical decline starts. When my looks are gone, only purpose remains, which is exactly what’s missing from my life right now.