Chemistry

“Oh my God,” Tilda shouted over the music. “Devo! I haven’t heard this in years.”

“I think I remember how to dance to this,” I shouted back. I punched her upper chest with the flat of my fist. “When a problem comes along . . .”

She threw back her shoulder and lifted her chin. “You must whip it!” We danced, the beat punctuated by my fist against her chest.

We had been meaning to come to Chemistry for a while. We rarely made it to sex parties other than our own and this one had been getting good marks from our friends. Held in a loft in Brooklyn, Chemistry offered the space for three distinct areas: a quiet indoor garden for conversation and massages, a boisterous dance area with a good DJ and a bring-your-own-bottle bar, and, the main attraction, a multi-tiered area reserved for sex. We knew we’d know some people there. Perhaps we’d also prowl for fresh meat.

We took a break from dancing to return to the sex space. We’d earlier enjoyed a spontaneous foursome with a bisexual fellow we knew in the company of a woman who confessed to crushing on Tilda. Now we wandered the room like casual shoppers, holding hands as we looked to see if anything caught our fancy. I saw room on a bench, next to a couple making out. I turned to Tilda. “Care for some cocksucking?”

Tilda put a finger to her cheek. “You know, I think I might like that.”

We walked to the bench. “Excuse me,” I interrupted the couple. “Mind if we join you on the bench?”

The woman looked over her shoulder and sized me up. “No, sure, that’s cool.” She returned to kissing her date. I thanked her, unfastened my belt and dropped my pants. Tilda lowered herself to her knees, smiling as she crawled closer to my lap. She moaned as she took me in her mouth.

“That’s nice, so good,” I said, caressing her hair as I grew hard in her mouth. Sitting back, I surveyed the room. On a raised platform to my left, I could see the shoulders of two men supporting the legs of the women they were fucking. A cluster of people writhed on the large bed below. A diaphanous curtain partly shielded an adjacent area from my view. Rows of couples had sex on the simple beds on the facing wall. My eyes returned to the couple making out next to us. She leaned forward to remove her bra. He stood to pull off his shirt. They were fast getting hot and heavy.

She was a certainly pretty, I thought, and he was a real looker. They were in their early twenties and, given the way they were shedding clothes with ease, as if accustomed to turning in together, night after night, I thought how nice it was that such a young couple was exploring parties like these so early in their relationship. Or perhaps they had been sweethearts for much longer, I conjectured as he went down on her; maybe they had applied to the same college so they could move to New York together.

I looked at Tilda. Her eyes were riveted on the couple as she continued to ride my cock with her face. My eyes turned back to see the couple looking at us. Tilda locked eyes with him as each of their mouths licked and sucked. The woman was staring up at me with a look that I could only answer with a kiss. She sighed into my mouth. I ventured a touch to her face; she turned toward me. I kissed her deeper, my hand moving to a breast, then, to the extent of my reach, to her soft flat belly.

He moved to retrieve a condom. She raised a hand to my neck. My cock grew deeper in Tilda’s mouth.

I kissed and was kissed, touched and was touched, as he fucked her, his eyes on us, watching. His smooth body was small and tightly defined, so that we could see the muscles twitch under his skin as he moved back and forth. A position changed and I could touch her wetness and, daring more, his cock in her. Her slight “oh God” told me to stay.

He came quickly. As he pulled out, Tilda took my cock from her mouth. “That was insanely hot,” she admired.

“Thanks,” the woman said, righting herself on the bench and shaking out her hair. “Thanks for watching. That was really hot.”

I indicated the hard cock in Tilda’s hand. “Would you care to go a little longer?”

She looked at me, confused for a moment before getting my meaning. “Oh no, thanks.” She pulled her bra onto her arms. “I’m good.”

“Happy to offer,” I said. “This is our first time here. How about y’all?”

“It’s my second,” she said.

“First,” he answered, tugging on his shirt.

“Oh,” Tilda said. “You also come separately? So you guys are in an open relationship, or . . .”

“Oh, no,” she said, looking back to him. “We just met.”

He wrested an arm from his shirt to extend a hand. “Yeah, hey. Jeremy.”

She took his hand in hers. “Cyndi.”

We laughed. “Okay,” Tilda said. “Now that was insanely hot.”