Sex cam pals
Sex cam pals - Free Online
A tall, handsome, besuited man with wavy dark locks and a 20-something Asian girl I presumed to be his girlfriend smiled at my male friend and me. We were on our way up to the sold-out Killing Kittens sex party.
After the article ran, demand was so overwhelming that Killing Kittens founder Emma Sayle organized a second bash for this Saturday to accommodate the city’s throngs of randy revelers.The opulent orgy was held at a swanky West 23rd Street loft with exposed-brick walls where, for $95 per woman and $295 per couple, kinky New Yorkers could have sex with strangers (or sex with loved ones while strangers watched). There were dapper men sporting well-cut suits and pocket squares (a handful were in tuxedos).The house rules, which were emailed out in advance, are simple: Men must not approach women, men must not talk to women (unless invited), men must wait to be invited, no means no — and only the kittens can break the rules. There was a young lady in a white silk blouse and knee-length leather skirt; another wore a floral, preppy sundress with a Chanel bag.A woman in thigh-high leather boots and a black miniskirt checked in patrons before they headed up to the fourth-floor, where the 120 or so guests were greeted with a glass of bubbly (after the Champagne reception, patrons could purchase drinks from a cash bar). If it weren’t for the mandatory masks and the one 46-year-old woman — Gweneth Romein, a self-professed “Killing Kittens VIP” who sauntered around in a revealing Agent Provocateur get-up while demanding that people slap her bare derrière — one might mistake the gathering for any typical Manhattan cocktail party. One man who looked in his early 30s approached my pal and me.There were three flat-screen TVs playing “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and Bond movies — “Women don’t like porn, so we don’t play it,” Sayle told The Post — and, yes, plenty of oysters. “I’m a principal at a major hedge fund and my wife is a media magnate.The couple we rode the elevator with were making out by the bar while she enthusiastically groped his nether region.
I asked Sayle when the, you know, sex was going to start.
“If it doesn’t start by 11 organically, I’ll have Gweneth get it going,” she said. hit, and Romein grabbed a finance-looking guy by his striped tie, pulled him to a bed plopped adjacent to the bar and pushed his head down toward her crotch — while she chatted with the woman seated next to her.
The loft was split into two rooms — one of which was dimly lit and outfitted with two black-sheeted beds pushed together with a spectator ring of couches and chairs. She is 100 times more successful than I am,” he volunteered as he inched closer and closer.
I asked why he and his wife of 10 years enjoy going to these parties.
“We’re fit, we have good bodies and we like sex, and want to share our sex with others,” he said.
“But if you’re not feeling the chemistry,” he said, eyeing my crossed arms, “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” By now, it was p.m.