Chocking on Cock at a Sex Party [FM], [FMF], [MFM]

The first time I heard a woman genuinely choke on cock was while I was sitting cowgirl on a custom 10-foot bed at a lifestyle house party. I really do mean choking. It wasn't some passing gag. No, this was loud, visceral choking.

I've never been one to watch a lot of porn. Perhaps if I was in the habit, I'd have already heard such a sound. But I hadn't, and it caught my attention right away. I looked over to watch the scene.

The woman, a voluptuous brunette with large breasts, was wearing a collar and leash. She was kneeling on the floor next to the bed and looking up with pouty lips and supplicant eyes at two men. Their faces held primal hunger — their erections were rock hard and waiting for more. Clearly, the choking of this woman on their cocks was filling them with bravado.

Their scene was enticing, but I couldn't stare at it forever. I was in the middle of my own threesome. My husband was sprawled out flat in the middle of the oversized bed. His girlfriend, a petite brunette with tattoos stamped artistically across her body, was sitting on his face. Her hands gripped the ledge of the window seal in front of her as she balanced on his mouth. I was behind her, straddling his cock as the three of us moved together.

Last summer my husband and I went to a winery with lifestyle friends, and a man had shown up wearing a T-shirt that had "Two Seater" with arrows pointing up and down printed boldly on the front. It was a clever design that would certainly raise the eyebrows of the less adventurous part of the population.

This was my first time experiencing the two-seater bodily arrangement. The view from the backseat was delectable. I'm not bi; however, the divine beauty of the female form is certainly pleasing. Watching her ride my husband's face was a captivating sight.

But, this is the problem I've found with shared erotic spaces. Too much of a good thing can be a distraction. There was a couple fucking on each side of us. All that sensory input can be overwhelming.

To my left was a lingerie and heels clad woman with long eyelashes and sexy dramatic makeup. She was all "yes, daddy." "Oh, my god." "Oh, oh, oh." And she was a squirter. The bed was soaked, and the line of her fluid was slowly advancing toward our territory. I always admire women who can get so into their own skin that they just melt into ecstasy. Yet at the same time, it can take me out of my own body and put me into my head.

To our right, a man was fucking the wife of the house. She was sprawled out on her back in her purple lace lingerie, her thighs spread wide. The man of the hour was going for it — full speed ahead. My own personal speed is two notches below what you think slow is. When I see men shifting into jackhammer and pounding the pussy like a dog with a nasty case of fleas, I always wonder to myself if some women really do prefer it like that.

And there I was again, in my head thinking when I should just have been feeling. Maybe it's just me, but after multiple sex parties, I've learned that if I want to get my pussy dripping and my voice moaning loudly, give me one and only one person, a good amount of sexual tension, and a lot of time to release it all. That right there is my sweet spot. Whoever is next to give me that better be ready because I'm going to devour him.

Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy attending the occasional sex party. But for me, it's the ambiance, the fun people, and experiencing new things. I don't have my best sexual experiences at lifestyle parties, but that's okay. The beauty of being open is the ability to explore and experience variety.