California Reaming - A Woman's Adventures In Polyamory

His name is Dave, my partner in crime, and he has now decided he cares not a whit if I mention his name in these columns. He says everyone at work knows he's a crazy kind of guy anyway, so what the hell. Crazy is his nickname in his contractor field, which is electronic construction. Crazy covers a lot of transgressions, even that of Dave's being bisexual. Here he is. Today Dave went off to the bath house here in San Jose, called www.thewatergarden.com. A very nice facility apparently. Guys even drive the hour down from San Francisco to come here.

Today Dave comes home with a smile on his face that I recognize well by now. He's gotten ploughed royally, it says. He's very pleased, the cat who's just swallowed a canary. Or two.

Today I have real cause for jealousy. Dave had four guys today. One after another. I can barely MEET a woman every four months, and trying to get them into bed...well, sturm und drang galore. So I am sitting here feeling morose about life. But I may as well describe his wonderful time. After all, SOMEONE is having a wonderful time, and that's the good news.

His first guy was a muscular, beautifully built white guy. From France. Dave decided ahead of time that he didn't want to get off with the first guy today. He arrived early, and had an hour to kill before he took his AIDS test offered there. He didn't just want to fire off too soon and then have to hang around that hour. So the first guy just worked him good without going all the way.

After about half an hour of Dave getting seriously pummeled, the French guy stops to say, "I have to go soon," he says. "What do you mean you have to go," exclaims Dave. "I have to meet someone," the guy says. Dave wraps his legs around him. You are going nowhere, my good man. Alright, ten more minutes, the French guy decides. Time flies. "Now I really have to go," he says laughingly. Out he goes.

In between Guy One and Two, Dave pops by to take the free AIDS test offered. Then back into the fray.

Dave heads back to his own private room, and soon another guy appears at the door. Asian guy, tall and lean, with a lovely curved dick (to the right, for those keeping track of these things). They indulge themselves with a bit of oral play at first, then the guy puts on a condom and fucks Dave for quite a while. Then he pulls out and asks to come all over Dave. Permission granted of course, and boy does he ever cum. A world of cum, enough that two towels are needed when it comes to housecleaning later. Apparently it was a real water hose effect, Dave has rarely seen such a load. He shot it every which way.

Next Dave heads for the steam room, where he runs into an older white guy. The guy sticks several fingers up Dave, who tells me he is squealing with delight. A crowd of course gathers in the steam room to watch. He got interestingly violent, lightly slapping Dave's nipples, then he pushed Dave's face into his armpits and Dave licked them as commanded, Commander. The guy had pecs, a great set of them apparently, he took Dave's head and held it between them, as if a woman with big tits were squeezing a guy's dick between them. The play got lighter, then the guy moved on.

Another guy, cute asian guy with a swimmer's build, comes into the steam room, very sensual, lots of roaming hands, light kissing. The guy has a beautiful body. For some reason the asian guys come right to Dave. This has happened a lot to him in these places. He finds they are the most sensual group of men he deals with. It's like they are re-creating the male-female sensuality ticket. The guy and Dave started rubbing, licking each other, Dave handles his cock and jerks him off. Then Dave gets down on the floor and the guy positions his butt so Dave can get his tongue up the guy's ass. "I nearly swallowed him whole," he says later. Finally Dave gets off as his face is buried in the guy's bunghole.

Whew. I'm feeling exercised mightily, and I wasn't even invited. Dave asks that I caution Dear Readers: this was an extraordinary day at the bath house. He does not get this all the time. Just so you know.

Kind of makes you wonder what a slow day is like, huh?

- - - - - - -

Recently, when I was a bit short on cash as I tend to be sometimes, I tried posting a personal ad on Craigslist to find a guy willing to spring for the entry fee to a sex party. The ad ran something like this....

"Fit, attractive, late 40s, slim blonde, seeking escort for a play party tonight in the East Bay. You spring for the entry fee, and be prepared to go our separate ways at the party. They don't let single guys in, so regard me as your best bet(!)"

The guys I heard from are listed below. Some of them are amusing. Some of them are...well, read on, dear readers. All of them arrived in my mailbox with great dispatch. The spelling, sad to say, is all theirs.

Guy I: Escort date for the evening. Is the position still available?

Guy 2: Sounds interesting! Could I bring another lady? I'd really would like to know someone there. Either way count me in! I am 35 by the way. I just look really young.

Guy 3: 48 male 6'5 235 short brn gray hair deep blue sexy eyes...fit fun and clean let's chat Dennis

Guy 4: Hi.

Guy 5: Luv to go! When where? 40 italian/irish. 6'3" 220 7" cut, thick, thanks

Guy 6: I would defintely be interested in being your escort. I have no problem paying the entry fee. I'm a good-looking, well-educated 33 year old male. I kind of look like Tom Cruise, but taller. Do you have a pic? Get back to me if I can be of service.

Guy 7: I'm very interested. What time is it at and where.

Guy 8: Hey this wouldn't be the Salon party that Carol is having is it?

Guy 9: Let's do it (650)820-9821

Guy 10: Now that's cheap.

Guy 11: Hey, I'm 21, a little interested in this but...don't know how to go about it. I'm still a virgin but finnally interested in doing something. I'm just really shy. Going to this party would be a lot of fun. So ummh...if you want to hook up..or if i can be your escort let me know. Take care...

Guy 12: Hey I really want to go so let me know where and when just like u said aftr we get in we go our seperate ways

Guy 13: Hello I like your add and would love to meet with you. I'm Italian 6'2 220 pounds and a great lover. You know what they say about Italians, were not smarts but great lovers. Seriously I love to please a woman orally for hours and can do with my tongue what most men can't do with their Cocks. I own a business here in the bay area, and during normal business hours handle myself with class, and respect. But when it comes to having sex, and making love to a woman, the Italian Stud comes out in me. I'm a very good lover and no you will not be disappointed like a lot of the flakes on this site. I look forward to hearing back from you real soon Joe. (408)845-8956

Hhmm, this guy must have read my rather adulatory posting on Italian men. Clearly, it went right to his head. Or wherever. I'm seriously thinking of launching a raid on that fabulous sounding tongue.....

Guy 14: what's a play party I'm 23 a musician and I live in Santa Cruz and am new to the area

Guy 15: Now that seems cold. Going to let him pay and then dump him as soon as he does? What swinger party doesn't allow single women to attend?

Guy 16: What kind of party?... Fee.....picture?

Guy 17: Hi Ma'am, I am not available for the party tonight - or at least I am not available at this time. I was wondering if you were in need or were thinking of having a houseboy? I once met a woman who did like the idea who was posting to go to a play party, so I am not totally tilting at windmills. I hope to hear from you. I live in SF but have a car. I am height/weight proportionate, trained, submissive, funny, and hope to get a chance to talk to you about this.

Guy 18: You are funny. i attend these parties...males are not allowed to go their separate ways from their lady escort...hope you find a sucker.

Guy 19: well I have a very sexy bi lady friend and we could have more fun here if you would like to come over. we have been to a few of these parties and it was fun but we prefer to play at home.

Guy 20: pardon but what's a play party?


Geez, I love men, don't you?

- - - - -

Tonight we are taking in one of the rare all-women sex parties in San Francisco.

My concern at these things has always been: will the women play together? I have had my doubts whether this would occur. My friend N has told me though that the main problem is getting women out of their houses in the first place. Once you get them somewhere, they WILL play.

I did not see it myself, but I did see lots of erotic foreplay activity. A gaggle of us did visit the make-out room, where, basically, we made out. One tall black butch sat in a sofa chair as another black dancer gyrated her way into a lap dance.

After talking for a while with a rather attractive femme, who do I end up with in the make-out room but a rather attractive soft butch. And what's that all about, I ask myself. I can move with the femmes and start off flirting with them, but for some reason, when push comes to shove, it is the butchier women I am more likely to end up with.

This one kind of made a beeline for me early on, we flirted and bobbed and weaved about each other, then we migrated around the room, then we hooked up later.

"Let's go to the make out room," I forget whose idea it was but we ended up there in nothing flat. I have been scornful of cuddle parties and the like, but now I can say, cuddling is good. It's nice just being close and intimate with a woman you've just met. I really got off on just running my fingers along her arms and shoulders. As she is a bit more fleshy than I am, she finds my lean shoulder blades fascinating. You'd think she had never seen shoulders before.

After a while spent here, it becomes apparent we are not ready to go the next step further. That's ok, this is a start. I wanted to set modest goals for myself on this night.

After all, we're dealing with women here. Caution and easy speed are the better parts of valor tonight.

So why do I term this party a success overall? Because I picked up the vibe that others, like me, enjoyed themselves and liked what they participated in. They liked the vibes, just being comfortably with other women was probably fine for most of these women.

But we're all hoping the sponsors throw another party, because I think the pot will grow bigger then, you will find the same group of people and they will be ready for bigger and better hopefully.

The week after this party, I posted, along with other women, comments on Craigslist about the party. The general consensus was that it was excellent, and people want more.

Highlights Along The Way:

- A really hot "Hostess" greeted us when we first came in. Trim, blonde, in heels and dress, she was quite fetching. Do we get to boff her, or is she off limits? I must find out the etiquette about this.

- A really terrific black butch did a soulful, intense little strip-tease on the stage. She is trim and fit and bristles with lovely muscular definition. Earlier, I was admiring her nice little black leather collar, which came with a discreetly shaped lock.

- The women overall were appealing, and they were in high spirits. There was a lot of good energy in this place.

As impressed as I was by this party, I had a few suggestions for future events. More games would be nice, to get people even better acquainted. We did have a Scavenger Hunt, where people went looking for women with the most unusual piercings, tattoos, the hottest underwear, the nicest tits. You get the idea. More could be done along these lines.

I would also suggest an "intermediate" room between making out and outright sex play. A room where massage could be done, or cuddling which could include more physical contact. Again, I think a lot of women would want this first, even if they wanted nothing after it. I enjoyed my experience cuddling with the soft butch lady, it would have been nice to undress each other and just play physically after that, without necessarily having to move on to sex play. Of course it would certainly help the play if you could start this way.

- - - - - -

It was a nervous week here in San Francisco. One of the oldest and longest running sex parties is now defunct. The Black Sheets are no more, for whatever the reasons. The ones offered were rather vague. They were kind of tired hosting parties. But suffice to say, the female population probably breathed a sigh of relief when another group got together and decided to stage an all-girl party.

All-girl sex parties are few and far between, even in a place like San Francisco. They happen a lot more in the BDSM world, at places like Power Exchange and The Citadel. But "regular" whitebread kinds of parties don't occur that often.

This one was scheduled into another "alternative" facility in the Mission District for a Saturday night. Apparently the word spread quickly, the thing sold out very fast. One hundred women signed up and the waiting list was already forming.

I started to get my hopes up. This outfit has thrown parties in other places before, hopefully they know their business.

The venue was an excellent choice for the size of this group. Basically it was one main room, with smaller rooms off it. In the central area they set up the food, a nice spread of the usual fruits, veggies, dips, cheeses, breads. But again, no alcohol, not even wine. I suspect this is because the lesbian community has a built-in fear almost of women getting snookered in public. Alcoholism and other addictions are still as prevalent in the gay community as they were in my coming out days. So if you want a toot on something, or a quick nip, you'd better find it elsewhere on your way in the door.

Women start gathering by nine, they've asked the rsvpd people to be there by then, the waiting list crowd will then be allowed entry.

People seemed as uncertain as I was about how to dress. There was nothing totally skimpy, I guess the girls don't want to walk in looking like complete sluts at the outset. So we saw a range of dress. I had my customary black jeans long black shirt look, half the crowd wore pants or jeans, the other half made an effort to dress up.

Okay, so it's a schizoid crowd, I said to myself. But I liked the variety of the people right away. You had a fair number of black girls, one or two asians, the rest of us were caucasian. Sometimes in clubs you see this kind of good mix, a lot of times though the various ethnicities hang together. Not a big hostile thing, it just seems to work that way.

We had butchy girls, we had femmy girls, we had skinny little asses like me, and we had big girls. I don't think we came close to a hundred women, but at the peak there must have been around 70 women there. Not bad at all.

The food and dance areas occupy most of the main room, there is a small stage at the back end where the emcee and the dancers will perform later. Off to the side is a curtained off room, the "Make Out Room," it is designated, with chairs and sofas. Next to that is a smaller, beaded doorway leading into the "Play Room." There are mattresses and massage tables in here. It is the smallest room, they are not expecting a world of people to use it, but it is just the right size I would say.

And did the girls use it? I saw several people go in and out, I heard they did, but every time I went to check up on them (yes, I floated around and checked up on everybody), the room looked empty to me. One young woman whittled herself down to her bare titties in the course of the evening, but there was no other raging full frontal nudity.

But was the party therefore a dud? No, for girls playing together, it was not a bad start.

TO BE CONTINUED

Last time I began writing about my girlie experiences just before I enrolled in classes at the University of California at Berkeley. As I tried to reconstruct what I was doing at the time, I found it useful to center on the women I knew then.

A lot of the women I had sex with were friends with me first. The sex came along and didn't seem to affect our friendship one way or the other.

My friend Lyn was one of these friends. We met at Maud's, the classic San Francisco dyke bar at the time. Lyn was from a well-to-do east bay family. Her father was a psychiatrist who administered the tests for the Oakland Police Department. Her mother was a psychiatric nurse. So, what this meant for Lyn was, her emotional history had some heavy complications, but help was close at hand. A good thing, that, because Lyn had some psychological problems. Problems with affluence. She and I would joke about it all.

When college time arrived, Lyn was sent packing to Sarah Lawrence, one of the "Seven Sister" women's colleges on the east coast. Read as snotty, to you and me.

Lyn would tell me tales of life at Sarah Lawrence. Everyone sounded terribly unsober. Drugs were rampant, alcohol more common than Coca Cola. The girls would go off on weekends to their proms, parties and whatnot and get snookered up their wazoos. There was a kindly old guy who looked after the dorms, she told me. He would round up some guys to help carry the passed out girls out of the prom and into the back of his station wagon. They would stack them neatly in the back, side by side, taking care not to muss their dresses. I can almost see him waving to the guys and driving off saying, "It's never a lady's fault." Or some such cornball line.

Unfortunately Sarah Lawrence came to a screeching halt when Lyn's parents got a late night call from the dean. It seemed Lyn was caught indulging her carnal impulses with another coed one day in the dorm. The door was left unlocked and someone walked in. Surprise surprise. Lyn was expelled. The parents yanked her back to the west coast. Good thing that, it's how I got acquainted with Lyn.

She and I went out to a bar one night, the vibe between us got friendlier, and we were both in between fuck buddies, as it were. We ended up going down on each other back at her apartment. It was nice and intimate, but neither of us expected or even thought about it becoming a "dating" thing. We went back to being friends.

Later, we became roommates for a while, in a house up in the Richmond Annex north of Berkeley. I was in my last semester at Berkeley in the English Department, and Lyn had met Kathy. They decided they wanted to live together, I ended up being their third wheel in the house. It sat atop a hill overlooking the bay, and had a nice fenced yard where we would sunbathe naked and play with our house rabbit. It was positively bucolic.

Kathy was a tall thin drink of water with long blonde hair who worked for the post office. She was laid back and fun and went about her daily grind with a bemused sort of attitude about things. She found me a quaint type with a penchant at the time for Steve McQueen movies. One night we all went out to a strip club, where one dancer seemed quite taken with my presence. She danced her way around the table and did interesting things to my person with her long, trailing scarf.

"Gee, maybe I should start watching Steve McQueen movies too," Kathy quipped.

It was only my second visit at the time to a strip club. The first one was recently that same year, in the company of one of my English professors.

Strip clubs. Bar hopping. Party going. Pool playing. Motorcycle riding. That's about what I remember from that period. My classes were something of a blur. Somehow I managed to graduate.

TO BE CONTINUED

Much of my girlie activity took place right after I landed in Berkeley in the fall of 1968. I was set to start classes in the January quarter, but until then I was going to date everything in sight. In earlier columns, I wrote about meeting my first American girlfriend Ingrid, followed then by Gerrie and Charlotte. There were several others who made an interesting contribution to my life at that time.

One of these women was Mary, a lady I worked with when I temped for an agency and was sent out to Kaiser in Oakland. Mary was a good twenty some years older than me, somewhat chunky but attractive, with short curly dark hair and a somewhat executive manner. She also had a somewhat butch attitude that I guess attracted me at the time. You know how it is when you look back at someone who attracted you earlier, but now you're left wondering why they ever did in the first place. I would probably never be interested in someone like her now, but back then was back then.

I picked up that Mary might be gay, she said later she realized the same about me. One night I decided to take the bull by the horns, and I called her up and asked if I could come over. She said yes very readily.

Did I know I was heading out for what would be basically one big fuckfest? I was too naive and inexperienced to know fully what to expect, but I was hopeful something nice would occur. I picked Mary because she said "experience" all over her. I wanted to borrow from her storehouse of expertise.

Our little learning experience got under way nearly immediately. I knocked on the door, Mary answered, and as I was walking in she somehow had managed to plant a really juicy kiss on me and get my coat off at the same time. I know there must have been a living room there somewhere, but I don't remember seeing it. The apartment became one big bedroom.

Mary spent a while diddling me with her fingers. She held up two fingers, along with her thumb. "Guys like this," she indicated with her fingers, "But women like this," she added, showing how her thumb could work the clitoral area. I was sore for a day or two after this night. I felt I could afford playing with a co-worker, as my temp job ended soon thereafter.

Next I hung out with Connie, a slim short-haired blonde girl close to my age, who also played a mean game of pool. We met at Maud's, the classic dyke bar in San Francisco at the time. I went home the first night with Connie and we got really stoned. Then we both feel asleep on the living room floor.

When I awoke it was after midnight, and it was raining hard. Connie woke up too as if she'd fallen into a time warp.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded to know, as if she'd totally forgotten what transpired earlier. "You can't stay here," she concluded. This was such a Jekyll and Hyde kind of maneuver that I thought it better not to argue. For some reason, Connie had not only woken up on the "wrong side of the bed," she was somehow in the wrong movie as well. I rode home on my motorcycle across the Bay Bridge in a pouring rain. Exit Connie, who later called my ex Gerrie to say she felt badly about tossing me out. Great to know.

Girls were proving somewhat problematical. But I was determined I was going to be a lesbian, come hell or high water.

TO BE CONTINUED

After Ingrid and I went our separate ways, I went out in search of a new ladyfriend. Again I placed an ad in the Berkeley Barb. This was how I met my next girlfriend, Gerrie. She was a couple of years older than me and far more experienced with women than I was. With men too, as she had been married for a while, was recently divorced when I met her, and she had an eight year old girl. Her husband described her as the most sexual person he had ever met.

Gerrie was fairly tall, with a moderate build and short curly brown hair. Fairly butch looking, I guess would be the term. After her divorce, Gerrie went to work for a temporary employment agency. She was sent out to work under a guy at Kaiser Permanente in Oakland in a technical writing department. Six months later he was working under her. Gerrie had that Scorpio managerial style going on. She saved up money and applied to law school at U.C. Davis. She graduated number two in her class and made the law review. I guess that's a big deal for lawyers.

Gerrie was dating men and women when I met her. The new male consort in her life was a grad student at Berkeley in the History Department. She told me how they used to play chess, and he would get a hard-on just doing that. But as a lover he was too inexperienced, and she was quite critical of him to me. He would manage to do or say something that screwed up the lovemaking just at the critical moment. Another time she described how he would come inside her, then stay there until he felt aroused again. That was a big turn-on for Gerrie, the sensation of him getting bigger inside her.

Gerrie had tumbled into polyamory without ever having to use the word. Or the term "bisexual." We were both. Everyone we knew at the time was pretty much both. No one ever thought about it really, or felt a need to run on about it. I suppose we were all busy running around doing/being/acting on it.

She and I had a number of little adventures surrounding our relationship.

My first threesome experience was with Gerrie and another woman, Michelle. Michelle was in a long-term relationship with a blonde woman named Kathy. I had run across the pair when I answered their ad to rent out their basement room. I picked up that they were gay, and they thought the same of me. Then I introduced Gerrie to them.

After a night of bar-hopping, we returned to Gerrie's apartment. Gerrie, Michelle and I. One thing led to another and before long we were all in bed together. Michelle fucked Gerrie with several fingers while I watched. I remembered that because I had never seen two girls together before, or using their fingers. I did a lot of watching, in rapt fascination.

They pretty much ignored me, being the least experienced one there I suppose. Later, when Gerrie was out of the room, Michelle got very friendly towards me. I was not sure at all though where things should be going. The repercussions of this night were rather dramatic. It never occurred to us that Michelle would run home and blab to her long-time partner. But she did. The partner, Kathy, called me up first and chastised me right and left, as if I were the prime instigator of the transgression. I didn't tell her that I really wasn't a player that night, it was more the two of them. But I suspect she knew all along that Gerrie had set things in motion. It was a lot easier for her to beat me up than to confront Gerrie. The aura of complicated emotional drama seemed to hover around Gerrie's life at that time.

She and I were probably not the best match. But I did not know that at the time. We went out for several months, so Gerrie actually has been the longest sexual relationship I have had with another woman. I felt myself growing attached to her though, and as that happened she started pulling back from me. Or so it seemed. I felt attached without really knowing what I wanted from her. Or knowing what she wanted from me. We were probably both "experience hunters," if you had asked us what we saw for ourselves five years down the road, God knows what we would have answered.

I saw Gerrie go through a number of women (and men) after we ceased being intimate. After me she dumped the blonde lover, Charlotte, who was next in line. Charlotte was really upset by that, and consoled herself one night with me. It was pleasant and nice and she was a sweet, lovely woman. But we were basically friends, and we went back to that after the experiment concluded that night.

Gerrie dropped in on me, out of the blue, some years later. She came by my studio digs in the Berkeley Hills with her latest girlfriend. I had long forgotten about her, and was quite surprised she had my address still. Was she showing off the new girlfriend to me? I felt that, and it was no biggie, but I didn't want to be part of any more drama scenes with her.

She did, however, introduce me to another male lover at the time. His name was Don, and he (and his ex-wife) turned out to be another interesting experiment for me. But even here there was fall-out we had not intended, and Gerrie's influence could be felt once more.

TO BE CONTINUED

A very very close "second" goes to D's parties every month up in Sebastopol. This is an area virtually adjacent to the Napa Valley wine country region in northern California. This party was a big "wow" for me, as it had, by a long distance, the most attractive women of any party. I am not into huge women at all, and in this venue, fortunately, the women are nearly all thin little squeaks for the most part. I was in seventh heaven.

The crowd has great energy, and although it is predominantly hetero, there are notable pockets of alternative energy going on. Great food, modest alcohol, a fabulously suited house, and great music all contributed to a wonderful time. The guests are invited to sleep over, and the hostess makes a great brunch the next day. It's a great way to keep the connections going. Beginners and pros would be happy here, and actually the guests were equally divided on the night I attended. Half of them were new, half of them returning. I had a blast. This is one party that seems to grasp the fact that single women are desirable creatures to have about, and they will let them in for free their first time there. Something nice to note.

Avatar's bisexual massage parties have been lots of fun too. You have to be prepared for a much smaller scale though when you come here. His apartment near the U.C. Med Center is small; he could use more space. But the people are friendly, and they become friendlier in the intimate setting.

What makes his parties unusual is that they are aimed at bisexual men. His requirements are that straight men can come, as long as they bring a female partner. But several single women have worked their way into the mix, and they can enjoy themselves here too. Avatar has no pretensions about making money off this. There is no entrance fee per se, just bring a food or drink item that would be welcome at any party. None of this hefty $50 a couple thing, or $25 for single people.

My first fisting experience occurred here, so I will always vouch for Avatar. Because these events are set up as massage parties, people lose their clothes pretty early, and the mood becomes conducive to play faster than at other parties. The setting is funky, but very friendly, and if you're a girl like me who enjoys seeing males get it on, why come on down!

The bondage clubs, notably the Power Exchange and the Citadel, both in San Francisco proper, are specifically BDSM play spaces. These are not sex paraties per se, it is more about staging your particular "scene." These are the places you probably want to head for when plain old fucking just gets you down, and you really do want something far from ordinary.

At least they offer spaces where you can wear those cute leather fetish outfits that are nearly impossible to wear anywhere else.

- - - - -

Hopefully these postings have given readers an idea of what types of sex parties are out there. Out there being the San Francisco Bay area. Several people suggested I stick my neck out a little more, and name names as to what parties are worth going to, what ones are not.

This sounded like a good idea, and as we are at the end of the year when "top ten" lists get compiled, I thought I would join the fray. So here's a handful of the year's "best" sex parties, and the ho-hummers. This will be one of the rare times when I identify the parties by their actual names. How else would you know where to go?

Let me refresh for you though what qualities go into making a good sex party. My partner and I, being the queer little faggots we can be, tend to like a mixed crowd, hetero, queer, bi, transgendered. We like seeing everything, and the stranger the better. We like action that is fairly unstructured, but still organized enough that weird things don't happen; people can feel secure in where they are. We like enough warmth in the place, enough space and decent music to carry through the evening.

Barry and Shells are about the oldest group in existence, out of Oakland. For my money, this is probably the "straightest" crowd imaginable, and because of this I would probably not go back.

This is wife-swapping, basically, and although a party has to start somewhere, this one is too relentlessly heterosexual. And rather conventional. I did mention in my posting about it that I looked around the play room and noticed I was the only woman on top of her partner. The space is rather crowded, the food and music so-so. They don't enforce a "no-clothes" rule, or even erotic attire. So this one gets the bottom of my list. But for newcomers, it may be a perfect stop.

At the top of my list, my partner D and I really like the Black Sheets parties, in San Francisco's Mission District. The attitude is very free and easy here, helped along by the funky four-story old house where the parties are held. Lots of hetero people, but lots of fine queers as well. If you don't like seeing men in dresses, you probably shouldn't be here. People seem able to readily hook up here. The atmosphere is tops, the downstairs playrooms are quite suitable for fun, the lighting is soft enough that you feel comfortable and you can also see; the music is absolutely the best, lots of electronica, world beat, dance, techno.

I am firm in the opinion that what makes a great sex party is all about the crowd. We like some parties over others because we fit in with some of the crowds, but not with others. That's the difference.

I wish I could find a few more thin women at the Black Sheets. I am told they do show up from time to time. But the eye candy at this party is amazing nonetheless. There is queerness every where you turn. My partner and I really like that.

A note: Unfortunately, as of a few weeks ago, the Black Sheets are no more. The owners apparently rather abruptly decided, for whatever reasons, that they needed a break from their party activities. We have yet to see what will take their place. If anything. RIP Black Sheets. A San Francisco institution.

TO BE CONTINUED