Night of Cages

Our three-person mini commune was anything but homogeneous to the public eye, but in the privacy of our intimate moments, we couldn’t be more symbiotic. Comprised of myself, Ethan, and Claire, we were each equally eager to explore every physical and emotional aspect of the other. Never settling for typical sexual boundaries, we constantly flirted with the idea of relinquishing all physical rights to the other two.

On one of many visits to a venue called OZ, a bright green building that housed the nightlife for the entire North Florida gay community, we found ourselves dancing and sweating in self-revelation. When we entered the lobby, we were greeted by two billiards tables surrounded by groups of men and women moonlighting as their most authentic selves. Many evenings we would all wander off and attach ourselves to strangers, but tonight was different. The lights felt darker and the energy heavier; sensuality became an open door asking us to walk in.

OZ was a place of musty air and sexual freedom. We walked past the bar and followed the yellow tiled floor, entering a shame-free nirvana. A T-shaped stage penetrated the main dance floor; trans men and women came to OZ from all around the country to perform their immaculate choreography. Necks hidden by boas or costume. Faces glowing in perfect makeup. The three of us felt small in the presence of such courageous and awe-inspiring sexual mentors. We were not worthy.

We watched the stage for what felt like a lifetime, and I found myself moving in sync to the music with Ethan, a six foot tall and strongly built hell of a man. Ethan stood out among the crowd with a sharp edged beard that made most people, men and women, take a second look when walking past. But tonight he was mine. Claire was off with someone new—leaving me and Ethan to our own devices.

He had been my confidant throughout the last year and I had recently started to see him as someone I needed to fuck. Currently, his hands were wrapped around my lower back and our legs intertwined, we were moving together to the music coming from each corner of the room. I felt a rush of excitement and nervousness run up my body and into my chest—this was new for both of us.

His thighs felt dangerous as they moved between my legs, the texture of his jeans grazing my bare flesh under my dress. I could smell the cologne on the nape of his neck and was overcome with the need to become more public with our sexual progression.

I wanted to take control. I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me over the music, “let’s get into one of the cages.”

He nodded; we moved across the floor into a large black metal cage. The spaces between the bars were large enough to walk through but still tight enough to feel enclosed.

Over a hundred people could now watch our every move. It was intoxicating. Ethan’s hands found their way up my dress between my legs and his fingers landed smoothly on my heated clit. I roared with pleasure and found my hands grasping onto the metal bars for support.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed Claire moving from across the room into the cage with us. Her athletic frame made it easy for her to glide through the crowd and into our ever diminishing boundaries. Along her left arm lived an entire mandala styled sleeve with bright turquoise color accenting the extensive line work. We knew the time would come to brave each others bodies and tonight it seemed like she was just as ready as I was.

Ethan hadn’t noticed her company until she moved her hands up his shirt and along his spine to the rhythm of the music. The three of us became a single moving entity among the metal barriers.

I can’t recall the songs played that night, I only remember the way Ethan’s hands made me cum in the cage – the way Claire’s mouth found mine – the way each of their lips tasted. I remember how exotic and exposed everything became.

This new kind of fucking was electrifying. I wanted more – needed more. “I want both of you, now,” I told them in the dark between the metal bars.

Immediately, Claire grabbed hold of our hands and led us out of the cage and back into the front lobby. We passed the billiards tables and the people making honest conversation. We walked hurriedly out the door and down the block – feeling the crispness of fresh air for the first time in hours. The sweat on my skin cooled as our anticipation rose when we made it to our car parked under the interstate bridge. We were still just as visible to those who drove by.

Claire started to take off my shirt as Ethan unbuckled his jeans. Our car wasn’t anything to be gawked at – and certainly no place for three hungry creatures to fuck. Yet there we were, my mouth on Ethan’s, Claire’s hands on my breast while she sat on top of Ethan’s hard dick, his jeans wrapped around his knees, the sounds of OZ now replaced by the motion of the car and the music of our inhales as we came.

We sat in exasperated pleasure in the back seat of my car and started to laugh softly, each of us gently caressing the clit or dick of another – providing those last spurts of ecstasy. Our faces lit flushed with the excitement of fucking in public.

Our breath and hearts began to move back into a steady rhythm as Ethan let out a sigh and laughed. “What?” I asked, as Claire and I looked at him, awaiting his response.

He closed his eyes and asked, “again?”

Photo: Anais Pouliot, Candice Swanepoel, Emily Baker, Saskia de Brauw & Zuzanna Bijoch by Mert and Marcus for Interview Magazine, September 2011

KinkShealynn Cartermain