T
he thriving sex positivity movement
— which celebrates sex as natural and
shame-free — and booming sexual
wellness industry encourage people
to feel secure in exploring and
experimenting. Gwyneth Paltrow, arguably
now better known for hawking jade
vagina eggs than her acting career, was
on the bandwagon early. It’s a lucrative
hustle: she hosts the Netflix sex therapy
show Sex, Love & Goop, and sells paddles,
whips, 24-carat gold vibrators and (groan)
sex journals on her Goop website.
On a recent visit to a branch of Boots I
spotted eight different vibrators for sale.
The company says sales of sex toys in the
past six months have increased 27 per cent
compared with the same period last year.
“Within the kink world sex toys don’t
seem a big deal,” says Petter, 27. “But for me
and my friends to be openly talking about
which ones they want to try is quite a big
step and shows that it’s becoming much
more normalised.” She hopes that women
being more straight-talking about theirdesires will help close the “orgasm gap”,
the imbalance in satisfaction within
heterosexual relationships. “We are pulling
away the shame and stigma that surrounds
sex,” she says. “And that allows women to
ask for what they want in bed, and actually
guide a partner. That’s all about female
confidence and autonomy in the bedroom.”
My Bristol mate divulges the details of
the two Killing Kittens parties he attended,
both in smart London mansions. “The first
time my wife got led away by this woman
and I got led away by a woman,” he says.
“Afterwards it didn’t feel right doing it
apart.” Thankfully the next party was more
satisfying: “We got approached by this very
cute, very forward woman who said, ‘I’ve
been looking for a couple like you,’ and we
effectively played with her all night.”
They have another party booked in for
early next year but are not telling most of
their friends about this adventuring:
“Everyone goes straight to the idea of
swingers, and that idea is comedically bad.”
Another friend, eagerly squeezing in
before-babies escapades, went to Torture
Garden with his long-term girlfriend. They
dressed up (“Latex is the most expensive
stuff I’ve ever bought”), danced, drank and
watched others have sex without joining in
themselves. “You have to have a mature
discussion with your partner,” he says. “It’s
normal to occasionally fancy other people,
and even fantasise about having sex with
other people. Once you acknowledge that,
these parties can provide an avenue to
explore those thoughts safely together
without any jealousy or guilt.”
He finds it unsurprising that our friends
weren’t going to sex parties in their
twenties. “Lots of people were probably
interested in doing these sorts of things,
but they would have struggled to explain
it to their mates,” says the 35-year-old,
who plans to go back for another round.
“Now no one really cares what their mates
think and they’re much more capable of
explaining to their partner what they
want to do.” Plus, we now have more
disposable income (these parties are
reassuringly expensive) and smartphones
mean the fun is all a few simple, discreet
clicks away.
After my own Killing Kittens experience
I tell a couple I know — together five years
and hoping to have children one day — all
about the ten-in-a-bed orgies I witnessed.
They confess they’ve bought their masks
and are heading to their first ball
imminently. “We’re older, more secure
about ourselves and have this moment in
our lives to try something that is fun and
mind-opening, if you’re careful to get it
right,” says the boyfriend, adding that they
have to get up early the following morning
for a godchild’s christening. Which seems
exactly right nSome names have been changedW
hat did you get up to at the
weekend?” was the Monday
morning question I dreaded
most when I was growing up.
My chest would tighten as I
heard my classmates share
predictable tales of shopping
trips with their families,
picnics at the park or
evenings in front of the telly. Our home was
very different. For a decade of my childhood,
in the late 1970s, I spent my weekends
witnessing my parents’ polyamorous lifestyle.
From the outside our life looked like
suburban normality. My dad was active in
the local community and worked as a
solicitor, while my mum was a compliant
housewife who taught French
two or three afternoons a week to privileged
middle-class children like me and my brother,
both in primary school at the time. But
beneath the surface their marriage was
unstable and unhappy. The toxic combination
of my father’s overbearing presence and
my mother’s emotional detachment,
coupled with her infidelities — we learnt
decades later that she was on more than
first-name terms with a number of the
neighbours — made them think that an open
marriage was the solution.
Via the medium of contact magazines
— the 1970s version of swingers’ websites
— my parents embarked on a series of
liaisons. Initially I was blissfully unawareMUM AND DAD
WERE 1970s
SWINGERS
How off-the-scale
awkward is it when
your parents have
their “special friends”
to stay? An anonymous
writer shares the
abiding horror
No longer the preserve of adult stores,
a wide range of sex toys is sold in BootsAna Kirova, the CEO of Feeld, a dating app
LAURA PULLMAN, BACKGRID, REXfor people seeking open relationships
The Sunday Times Magazine • 31