The people I did chat to were friendly one woman, who was 29, told me she regularly went to sex parties to experiment with other girls. I decided to let them crack on – no-one likes a third wheel, particularly not one with a dictaphone. Some of them were already kissing passionately in the small enclosed booths. It was a younger crowd, mostly couples in their 20s and 30s, mingled and chatted. Thankfully, prosecco at the venue was only about £6, so I knocked back a few glasses for Dutch courage (despite being warned ‘not to drink and kink’). ![]() I’m certainly no prude, having licked my fair share of peanut butter in my time, but I wasn’t sure how I was going to react at seeing so much sex in such an enclosed, magnified setting. The top-secret location of the ball was released the day before the event, and so I trekked with trepidation to the North East London nightclub with a sick feeling of nerves gnawing at my stomach.
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