Pop Porn Party: An Exploration of Sexuality

The night started with getting ready for a party, a Porn Party–true to form, high heels on, red lips shining with a glint of scandal, honey-soaked skin showing. Life is on, with a hint of zest.

Walking into the premises, you are immediately hit with a sense of wonder, something between the lines of complete anarchic freedom and no hindrances between what one has dreamt of doing but hasn’t yet dared to. There was no judgement, no right or wrong, just a space where bodies, souls existed and still exist in the after-glow…

The air is filled with sex–it smells like sex, bodies are moving to sex; not the pornographic kind, but more of the sensuous, experimental, testing each other’s boundaries, playful, slightly lustful kind. Like skaters in an ice-rink, slowly and yet decisively leaving their mark on solid ice, bodies moving in tune to each other’s songs. If you listen carefully, you can almost hear a choir of souls melting into the warmth and epiphany of having found this openness.

It’s not just any other act of sex–it is playful yet sensuous, gentle yet coarse; you can almost feel blood rushing into each persons arteries and veins as they interlocked lips and exchanged, what felt like, an eternity of locked-away passion.

Can you imagine anything else other than to follow each story as if unfurls?

Each group, each person is a story in and of themselves–of longing, of belonging and hearts filled with fire.

Having entered this state straight off the busy streets of Moscow felt like a rude-awakening. From the coldness of the city and its phone-watching cacophony of people, rushing everyday toward who knows what, into this warmth and all-encompassing glow of sexual encounters.

It takes a minute to come to. Your heart starts racing, you’re almost as excited as the woman standing next to you, bent over, moaning her deepest moans in all sincerity.

How do you act? What do you do? Who do you look at first?

Relax.

Everyone else is relaxed too.

It’s time to get the party started–head toward the bar, grab a drink. And in that moment, as you linger there, delve deep into the comfort and warmth of having your legs attended to by a man in a loincloth.

He is tall, shaped like the gods of yester-years, even Michelangelo would be jealous.

And all he wants is for you to dominate him, to sit on his back and ride him like a horse. Nothing else makes more sense than for someone to ask for precisely what they want.

Nothing else makes more sense than for you to recoil into your shell because you’re not entirely comfortable with the idea, because you haven’t explored that facet of your being yet. Because you’re still, like most people, hiding your truest self in fear of what might come out if you let your wild animal loose.

Will you play dominatrix to this slave or will you take what’s being offered to you and walk away?

Red pill or blue pill?

Really, you’re only just forming your own reality.

The slave is gentle–caressing, licking, attending to your every need, using his entire body to take care of your feet, for they have been holding you up all day and all night and someone needs to take care of you before you crumble. And there are no questions of forcefulness or boundaries, everything is natural, you are not crossing any boundaries unasked–you are the only one who can decide what happens next.

Finish your drink. Bask in the glory of your own beauty.

The rest of this uninhibited space is waiting for you to show up, in your entirety.

Take a deep breath and dive in–Pop Porn awaits!

To read a contrasting review of the same party with more photos, click here.

About Elizabeth8 Articles
Elizabeth has spent the last 4 years traveling and working her way through Asia and has come to live in Moscow just over half a year ago, and although the country is her second home, she is only just discovering what it truly means to “be” a Russian.

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