Have You Really Lived?

Do you sometimes feel you have never really lived? That you really should branch out and see the wilder side of life? Follow h2b’s intrepid investigator and look and learn!

I recently accepted an invitation to Killing Kittens; a ‘discreet party for up market, young, good-looking single women and couples’ rather than some bizarre animal cruelty event. It’s not often you get invited to an orgy, but I thought: ‘what the hell’, not least because I liked the implication that I was young, up market and good-looking!

I became genuinely nervous as the fatal evening approached. I wasn’t planning on having sex at the event, but I felt guilty about going along on that basis. It’s one thing turning a bloke down when you’re at a normal bar, but I couldn’t help feeling that going to an orgy with the intention of staying clothed strayed into being a ‘tease’. However, I wanted to show willingness so I got dressed up in a slinky dress slashed to the thigh, with stockings and suspenders underneath. I completed the ensemble with a feather mask. A specification on the invite was that masks had to be worn until 11pm, allowing the attendees complete privacy until then. Other rules were: no means no, girls make the rules and only girls can break the rules.

Full of trepidation, I arrived at the venue and met the Killing Kittens hostesses, who were attractive and in their late twenties/early thirties. There was a reception area, a lounging area full of inflatable beds and a massive 30-person Jacuzzi. The venue certainly looked the part, with cushions and candles providing a decadent ambience. The girls made me feel incredibly comfortable and my nerves started to fade, helped in part by a large glass of Champagne.

Men aren’t allowed to approach women for sex at the event so they stood at the bar until one of the Kittens went and said hello. It quickly became apparent that they wanted ‘play’ to start and this particular Kitten didn’t, so she returned to sit next to me with a plea to make it look like we were immersed in conversation.

Drinks and chat
I stayed in the relative safety of the reception area at first, making polite conversation. Most people were around my age, intelligent and good conversationalists. Generally it seemed to be couples in attendance, trying to add some spice to their relationships.

As the evening progressed, it began to feel a little male-heavy, and the women were definitely more attractive than the men.

Within a couple of hours clothes started coming off. Contrary to my fears, no one was pressuring me to try anything. But as more of the men left the reception to go to the ‘liberated’ areas like the Jacuzzi, I was left with their other halves, and I found myself slipping into relationship counsellor mode. In a number of cases, the women had come along ready for group action but hadn’t expected their partners to just wander off and start fondling other women!

Full on sex or just petting?
Eventually, under the guise of going to the loo , I went to gawk at the action. That’s when I began to feel uncomfortable. Five or six couples were standing in the Jacuzzi making out. Thanks to the heavy stench of chlorine, it seemed more like several people breaking the ‘no petting’ rule at the local swimming baths than a bacchanalian delight. I looked around for condoms, which I’d expect to see all over the place at an event where sex is on the cards, and couldn’t find any, which only added to my concerns.

As I was taking in the view, a man I’d been talking to earlier came up to me: “My girlfriend wants to know if you’ll come and join us.” “No thanks,” I answered politely, “I’m actually not here to play.” “Will you watch us? And give her a kiss? She really wants you to join us.” I couldn’t see any harm in his request, so I followed him into a discreetly candle-lit private room. He started to go down on her and I leaned forward and kissed her, but even though she was attractive, something about it felt wrong so I pulled away.

By now I was tired and jaded and started gathering my things to go. The event had felt much more like a male fantasy than the glamorous debauchery I’d been hoping for. Though it was well organised and decadent, there seemed to be too many couples trying to experiment without communicating properly first. With some relief, I felt able to finally make my excuses and leave.

Killing Kittens costs £50 per single woman and £120 per couple including canapés and drinks all night. Apply at http://www.killingkittens.co.uk/. The vetting procedure is strict and photos must be submitted.