Edina First Gangbang

"A few years ago I walked into a disco. It was a kink night with a freaky crowd. I asked a guy if he wanted to come back with me. He did. I asked him if he minded extra company. He didn’t. I invited his friend to join us. And another. And another. We got a cab. I invited the cab driver to join in too, but he was too scared (he did take my number, though, and we did the dirty at a later date). If two’s company and three’s a party, five’s definitely an orgy.

It turned me on, standing in the hotel reception with four hot guys, aware that the chap at reception knew that we were booking into one suite and what we were clearly planning to do inside—me, in a word. It must have been obvious that they were all going to fuck me. I wonder if he fantasized about that. I’ve fantasized about him fantasizing about it. It was good, dirty fun. One of them was inside me. One of them was working on me. One of them gave me something to shut me up. One of them gave me something to keep my hands busy. It worked because I was the center of sexual attention. I wanted it. I was in control. I was shameful but not ashamed. I was wanton, almost a caricature, a porno fantasy, a make-believe slut. I came with their hands all over me, their eyes watching me, their dicks prodding me. I was drunk. I was high. It was fantastic—fantasy made flesh. Like my genitals were eating a pot of honey.

And that’s why I’m so passionate about people’s right to be promiscuous. If that’s what floats your boat, stiffens your penis, creams your vagina, go for it. Wouldn’t you rather be on a beach somewhere right now, with beautiful people, coming? Coming is brilliant. Why shouldn’t we strive to do it as often as possible and with as many people as possible? So much of our lives are spent taking the bin bags out, brushing our teeth, waiting for the microwave to end, wondering when we can take our shoes off because our feet ache.

Life isn’t fun or glamorous. It’s dull and tedious and savage and cruel, and you have to go to work and feed your k**s and send people birthday cards—all that old shit. Those moments of pure release, though—that hedonistic abandon—they’re the bits that make life worth living. Sure, you can have special moments with the person you love, but don’t look down on those of us who like to rub genitals with anyone and everyone. Like you, we just want to feel alive." - Edina