From my point of view, walking through a space filled with naked or partially nude bodies, improvisingly and unconsciously present, but creating a sense of equality. Surrounded by a variety of bodies, everything is held under the erotic lens without any pressure of performance, making everything feel more grounded. It’s like the advice of imagining a naked person before giving a presentation, but in this case you’re actually naked and part of the crowd. And somehow, everything feels much more calm.
On this particular night I stepped into a dark, winding space filled with leather-bound benches, swings and beds, with leather benches, chises, swings and beds tucked into secret corners. Others stood in open areas, sipping water, complementing each other’s costumes (or their lack thereof), catching up like it was too long, people gathered to watch the scene play. I felt my body move without restrictions, calm and open, only the humble pieces held my humility. The space was filled with throat sounds, soft moans and the familiar Purr vibrator. People moved around each other with grace. And every part of me was equipped with the stability that comes from knowing my sex party essential bag and myself, and the stability that comes from my body feeling pleasure.
Even under the gaze of others, it bends like a pretzel in a vulnerable reception position, so I’m home in my skin at a sex party. I have the quiet confidence that comes when I step in and leave knowing that I feel I am in my own pleasure and limits and that I have navigated sexual boundaries with others. Self-doubt, who?
Caressa Chester, therapist A vast groupsays that sex parties may be the ideal environment for retraining your brain. “In the safety of a sex-positive space, we have the opportunity to violate the internal narratives that our shame holds, and instead focus on our voice and the ability to joy.”
Outside of the scope of a sex party, tragically timing fluorescent lights or upward-facing lateral corner selfies can threaten the delicate peace I have in my body. The separation of my peace and my trauma is thin on paper. Sometimes it tears.
When that happens, I fill the space with deep breaths, reminding me that this moment is better than the days when counting calories in turkey. So I take a mirror selfie. I believe in nude photos. I hold my hot private camera roll album that I cherish. Because I like the way my hips slide down my belly and the way that belly droops low on my thighs when I sit. I’m soft. It feels like butter. This habit of looking at myself – exposing myself, just as my brain allows me to truly recognize my body To myself. So when those internalized, shameful voices creep up, I can hear, acknowledge and let them go.
Source: Allure – www.allure.com
