From religion to hedonism: The erotic pinnacle of (m)y 30 year old li(f)e (LONG)

As we all have different experiences, my most erotic moment may differ greatly from what some others may find erotic – even seem quite tame to some on here. However I've found that eroticism is highly psychological, emotionally charged, and often borne of deep seated, underlying feelings. For me, it perfectly contrasted with a background I sought to combat, to dismantle, and to abandon. My life history created a long buildup to this, a step toward emancipation from certain emotional and sexual chains. Thus I've included some of this background here, lengthy as it may be. Much further down, the final sexual event begins after the line break.

I crave openness.

I crave freedom, pleasure, and the combination of the two.

I wasn't allowed to do anything growing up. Behind the bars of religious teachings I unfortunately believed, I sat and watched the rest of the world enjoy itself. Through my teenage years, I watched life happen from the outside. A party was happening? I wasn't allowed to go. The Super Bowl was on? I was supposed to be in church, again, even though I had already gone that morning. My girlfriend of nearly two years wanted sex? I wasn't allowed to say yes. I was wrong for even kissing her. My private fundamentalist Christian school required me to sign a contract that I wouldn't go to the movies or listen to music with a beat.

My rebellion wasn't that rebellious. It never crossed the more adventurous lines. My craziest phase occurred when I was 17, and I would sneak to my girlfriend's house when her parents weren't home. I still wouldn't have sex – I believed in that rule myself – but I'd have some fun and mess around. My parents found out, and I wasn't allowed to see her for the following month. After that, I was only allowed to talk to her on the phone for 15 minutes a day. Even after I became a legal adult.

My brain developed a bit, and at my Christian college, I realized I was being taught a significant amount of bullshit. It was ingrained in my psyche enough that it took me three years to accept this fact. During these years, I had experiences with a handful of girls, but I'd always stop before "actual sex." Once I came to terms with my new lack of religion, I had sex for the first time, at age 21, in the full sense of the word.

The next girl after that became my wife. I was not quite 24 when we married. She was beautiful. She was a really good person. I had done well.

When I was dating her, we both lived with our families, and we had to be creative to find opportunities for sex. We had several exciting instances of public sex. I couldn't keep my hands off her. Life was very sexually stimulating during this phase.

We moved in together when we got married (some aspects of the traditional upbringing lingered). We then had our own space for sex and didn't need to create it via adventures. Sex was still good, albeit now fairly routine. We didn't have a dead bedroom, but we rarely did anything too out of the ordinary. We were going through the motions.

I enjoyed porn. Online, I found a world where I could discover. Through the years, I explored. I learned. I identified my likes, my dislikes, my sources of indifference, my sources of excitement.

There was a problem with this, of which I began to become aware. Just as in my adolescence, I was again watching from the outside. I was again not a participant in what I wanted. Other people were participating in what I wanted. Other people had always been the ones who participated in what I wanted. Their parents let them go to parties in high school. Their parents let them date. Their parents let them live their lives.

Why them? Why not me? I would watch the scenes and admire the openness. A group of people, all having sex around one another, freely, openly, indulgently. Whether acting or not, these people were open enough with their sexuality that they had invited me, and the rest of the world, to watch. That is sexy. That is the antithesis of my background, and to me, that is erotic.

My craving for a similar freedom, for being a participant in pleasure rather than a spectator, for indulgence for the sake of indulgence, for consummating the idea that "sin" is not even a thing – my craving for that increased daily. I had always noticed girls, but now I'd look around and want to fuck most of them that I saw in passing. I had always fantasized, but now it consumed my life.

I love my wife. I respect my wife. I did not want to cheat on her.

However, I was scared. My desires were beginning to feel compelling. I was beginning to feel I was living in a very sexual world but only getting a small taste of it. I was again not allowed to be free. Sex was actually pretty good with my wife, but it was the openness and the variety that I craved.

Many may turn to separation or divorce in such a case, as a reclamation of freedom. But my wife is not the kind of person you leave. In many ways, she is the exact wife I would have customized for myself, if that's the way it worked. The grass is not always greener, and I knew that leaving her would not lead to satisfaction. Divorce was not an option. One of three things was going to happen. 1) I would exercise self control, and I'd wallow in ever-increasing sexual discontentment. 2) I would eventually give in and do to my wife what she didn't deserve. 3) I would proactively seek a solution within my marriage.

Option 3 was not easy. But I had to do it. When she asked what I wanted for my 30th birthday, I said I wanted a sex party.

She agreed.

I was overcome with emotion. It hit me then and there that my wife, who was already nearly perfect otherwise, had just agreed to attend a sex party with me. It did take some talking. It took some thought. It took some establishing intentions. It took some real effort to understand each other's feelings and views.

For three weeks, I was counting down the days. We found a local "sex club" that held parties at hotels. Our research led us to believe it may be an appropriate scene for us to explore. We weren't going to swap partners with others. We agreed that our plan was simply to attend, and we committed to nothing more. We were open to playing together in such an environment, if the feeling was right. I went in with no expectations of this. In my mind, this was a baby step. I knew that if she liked it, my future could be bright.

As I was counting down the hours until the party, with only a few hours to go, my wife changed her mind.

I was numb. My parents had just cancelled Christmas as I was running downstairs to the tree. This couldn't be happening.

She was far out of her comfort zone. She was just doing it for me. It hit her as the party neared. She did not want to do this. Aside from noting the emotional roller coaster this had been for me, there was really nothing I could say. I love her. I'm a good person, right? Pressuring my wife into attending a sex party would be a bad thing, right? That would not be loving.

So I sat home, as I'd become so familiar with doing as a young teenager. Sitting at home while the party went on with others was simply what I do. This was my role in life. At 15, or at 30. I was in familiar territory.

I was not okay. I was not only learning what I wanted, in the weeks leading up to this plan, but I was identifying with it. This was me. This is what I wanted sexually. The human spectrum of fantasies and desires spans great breadth. This is where I fit on it.

A month later, I was genuinely stressed about where to go from there. My wife was aware of my struggle, and graciously reconsidered. She decided she would do it for me. Not for her, for me. Perhaps I am a bad husband for letting her do this for me. But this was me. I was bordering on needing this. Yes, yes, I would have survived without it, but no, I would not have been happy.

Arriving at the party was a bit uncomfortable for me, and presumably triply so for her. My concern for her discomfort added to my own. One of our fears was confirmed: it was a very small gathering. An additional fear was confirmed: it was held in one very small hotel room. Not quite a "luxury hotel suite" as we had been told. One room. One bed and a couple chairs. Eleven people. We were escorted to this room with some others, and small talk began.

My wife was literally hiding around the corner, occasionally peering around the wall to see whether anything had begun on the bed yet. One middle aged white man began to fondle his young Dominican date, who was probably an escort. (She was nice; we were flying to Puerto Plata the next morning, so we had enough in common with her to exchange five or six sentences). We stood and blankly watched as her tits promptly came out.

Gradually, more came out, and more people began to follow suit. One girl began sucking a dick in the opposite corner. The Dominican girl got naked. A few others stood on the sidelines and watched. The organizers advertised gender balance, but they were all men.

Both the attractive and the unattractive people eventually begin to fuck. Five of them together, in a group, on the bed. My wife cowered further into her corner. Even for me, it was not the most comfortable scene. The organizers and their inner circle were clearly all lying to us about numerous things, pretending to be things they were not for the sake of the image they were conveying to new people, but badly failing at doing so convincingly. The small size of the room was suffocating. The sex, however, was surprisingly not shocking in the least. It quickly became normalized to watch a small orgy unfold. That part wasn't even weird.

I would have put aside the cons and indulged in at least some capacity, with my wife anyway. But five minutes into the party, I realized with certainty that my wife was going to be a wallflower. So when we left after 2am, I had already grown accepting of the lack of personal action that would define my night. I was encouraged, however, that my wife agreed with me on something important: being around sex wasn't the problem. It was just that being around this sex, in this setting, with these people, was the problem. Okay, we can work with that.

When we returned home from vacation, I went to work on this. I studied. I learned about sex parties. I compared and contrasted them. I narrowed them down to the most likely to be successful. I eventually narrowed it down to one. I presented it to my wife. She was in.

I was elated that she was in, and I was confident it would be an improved experience. I had read enough to know it was going to be a very different scene. It was much larger. It was upscale. Rules were in place to ensure people would remain comfortable. All these parties seemed to have rules, but this one seemed to have the right rules. This all made the pitch quite easy. The date was circled on my mental calendar. And highlighted, underlined, and starred.

Attending the party required a somewhat expensive weekend away, as it wasn't immediately local. We bought outfits, tickets, and booked a hotel. It would be about a thousand dollars all inclusive, and I would have paid triple that, for this one night. Beforehand, not knowing for sure whether it would live up to the hype, I would have eagerly thrown three thousand dollars cash at it and not even flinched. If I'm really honest, I would have gone above and beyond that too. I wanted this badly.

---

As we settled into our hotel after dinner and prepared for the night's main event, my wife looked unreal. We had found her the perfect dress. She is a tan South American of the classically "exotic" look. 5'4" and fit. She recently pierced her nipples. Her black dress barely covered them, and occasionally they popped out. Who needs a bra when you're going to a sex party?

Merely arriving at this party with my wife, was, in itself, quite a thrill for me. I thought back to all the times I had been on the outside. I thought of all the times other people got to do things that I didn't get to do. Then I thought of all the people out there who might want sex tonight, who haven't had sex in years, who want far lesser things – never mind the possibility of attending a sex party with a perfect 10 who also happens to love and be married to them. But I wasn't an outsider anymore. I was getting to do just that.

We arrived at the party, went through security, who confirmed we were on the guest list and escorted us to an elevator. We went up four floors and the door opened to reveal the venue. It was held in a trendy loft, with exposed brick walls, sparsely placed stylish furniture, pulsating electronic music, and about fifty people, nearly all highly attractive. There was a balcony on one end, with a nearby bar, a spacious open concept primary area, and large closed double doors on the other side. A sign on the doors read "no drinks allowed in the bedroom."

We opened the doors. The "bedroom" contained a massive bed, surrounded by couches. Only a few people were inside, just talking at this point. We went the other way to the bar and ordered two drams of scotch. We found a seat and began to take in the sights together. The people were not only physically attractive, but they exuded sexual liberation. They were lovers of pleasure. This was in the air, and this, to me, was sexy.

Soon, a young couple, probably no more than 25 years old each, entered the bedroom holding hands. The doors were left open. He laid her down on the bed. Within five minutes, he was inside her. She spread wide for him, with no concern for the open doors and the wandering eyes. She was sexy, and she knew it, and she knew many of us were enjoying it. And she was enjoying that.

I still didn't know what exactly would happen for me, personally, but I had hope this time. As if the God I don't believe in was fucking with my plans, my wife got her period a whole three hours before the party. But I wasn't going to let that ruin this. We both knew there were other ways to play. My wife is an oral queen, and this was certainly on my list of potentially satisfying alternatives.

As time went on, we began to witness a gradual shift from the main space to the bedroom. One by one, couples (and some threesomes and foursomes) made their way to a place on the bed or the couches. Clothes were coming off. Pleasure was beginning to occur. Sexy people were beginning to enjoy each other, openly.

"We can go in there," my wife volunteered. I confirmed she meant it, and she led me in, finding a place on one of the couches. Couples were already fucking all around us. Some girls played with each other in the center, on the bed. Some couples were clustering together into foursomes, while many remained couples and took each other in, each in their own little bubble, yet all together.

I thought to myself, "this is me." This is who I am. This is what I want. This is the exact expression of sexuality that defines what I find sexy. Openness. Freedom. Liberation. Walls breaking down. Boundaries being expanded. Sex without shame. Pleasure without shame. Sex positivity. Women who knew they were sexy, showing their bodies to others, letting others feel them casually, embracing themselves as sexual beings, as beings to whom sex is natural. This is my scene.

We realized nearly everyone in the room was doing something sexual, so my wife playfully suggested, "maybe we should make out." At home, touching my wife anywhere is among the most casual of exchanges, something I'll routinely do when I happen to pass her in the house. I'll think nothing of grabbing her tits in passing, of squeezing her ass, of rubbing her pussy outside her clothes. I'm sure everyone who has ever lived with a partner is well aware of how these things can be done so meaninglessly. It was so different here. As I kissed her, gradually sliding my hand up her body toward her breasts felt brave. It felt like such acts used to feel in my younger years. Putting my hands on her in front of all these people had an element of risk to it. Will she remain comfortable? Will she accept this? Will she be able to get lost in the moment and take this to the next level?

I pulled aside the thin part of her dress that hid her pierced nipples from the room. I love these piercings, and this moment to me was its own little thrill. Nobody else was pierced, but now they all got to see that my wife was. She seemed to be comfortable with this.

Now kissing her, exposing her, and feeling her, it was starting to become evident to me this was going well. We played like this for a few more minutes, until she simply looked at me and said, almost both eagerly and reassuringly, "I can suck you." It was as if to say, "Don't worry, now that I'm here, I've decided that you are going to get what you want out of this." Yes, exactly what I needed and wanted.

She let her tits hang out and I pulled my cock out. She was sitting next to me on this couch. She turned toward me and bent over, opening her mouth. Then she wasted no time, taking me into her mouth, stretching her tongue and wiggling it near the base of my cock. I looked over her, at my surroundings. It was a sensory overload. I didn't know where to focus.

She continued like this for a few minutes, but it was somewhat of an awkward position, so she moved from beside me to kneel in front of me, just barely fitting between our couch and the bed. Behind her, a girl slid off her panties and her partner began to eat her pussy. She lay her head back as his tongue pleasured her. She was completely naked and spread her arms, taking in the sexual energy and eager to feel whatever was around her. She reached over and got a handful of my wife's ass. Her hand wandered upward. She looked into my eyes and rubbed the inside of my leg. I held my hand on the back of my wife's head, as she made an admirable and successful effort to take me deeper into her mouth, toward her throat. I looked back into the eyes of this girl. She held her gaze into mine, only occasionally looking down to watch my wife suck me. I love eye contact, and looking into this stranger's eyes, as she was nearly convulsing from her own pleasure, I exploded in my wife's mouth.

It felt surreal. I looked back down at my wife, who looked up at me with my cum sloppily dripping out of her mouth. I wished cameras were allowed in the party, as that look from her with the background of 30ish people fucking would have been worth constructing a frame the size of my living room wall. I mumbled something about how fucking hot that was, as she wiped her face and climbed back up on the couch beside me.

The girl who had especially enjoyed watching resumed focus on her own pleasure. We were a passing moment in her world, and she was a passing moment in ours. I felt bad I couldn't give my wife something even remotely close to what she had given me, but we weren't necessarily ready to leave the bedroom yet either, so we lightly played around anyway. I teased her nipples with my tongue and sucked them; her nipples are one of her most sensitive areas, even more so since getting them pierced. She leaned back and looked around as I did. After a couple minutes of this, I noticed she squeezed her legs together with her hand over her pussy, subtly trying to come to terms with the arousal she was feeling. Too bad others wouldn't have appreciated her period; I would have fucked her there without a care in the world.

After maybe 20 or 30 minutes passed, the scene was getting to me again. I was hard again, and it was time for round two. My wife got back on her knees in front of me. By this point, the bedroom was crowded enough that we could not have gotten out had we wanted to. There was barely room to stand, as nearly the entire guest list filled this room with an ongoing fuckfest. Next to me now was an attractive curvy girl who had just finished riding her partner. She sat back, naked, taking in the scene. I enjoyed looking over at her body, close enough that she occasionally leaned up against me inadvertently, just because there was hardly any room, as my wife went to work on my hard cock again. I picked out a few of the sexiest girls in the party and watched them get fucked as I enjoyed the feeling of my wife making an effort to take it deep. As I approached my next orgasm, I focused on a gorgeous woman, probably around 40, with firm fake tits bouncing up and down on her partner and occasionally looking over. But when I was ready to finish, I looked back down at my wife this time. Seeing her there at this party with her tits out and her inhibitions gone was the sexiest thing I could have watched in that moment. I fell in love with her all over again as I filled her mouth with more cum.

We conquered the maze of bodies and made it out of the room. We closed our tab. As we rode the elevator back down to the real world, I felt more connected with her than I could ever remember, and I told her so. She admitted to enjoyment and arousal, and I could tell she meant it.

I wish I could say we lived happily ever after as sex party regulars, but it's more complicated than that. We did attend the next party a month later, and it wasn't quite the same. We've learned that a successful sex party requires strong connection leading up to it, and if there are unrelated roadblocks or disconnects beforehand, they generally don't work out so well. We are focusing on building our connection, and as that continues to improve, I hope to have an abundance of stories of doing what I love, with the one I love. But connection can't be spoken into existence. It's going to require ongoing effort. That moment where she held her legs together tightly and could barely contain her arousal – that was so real. I need to get her back there again.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/38uwcj/from_religion_to_hedonism_the_erotic_pinnacle_of